Karma
by sparklybutterfly42
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a simple New York boy, cast into high English society when he moves in with the Kirklands. On top of that, he must attend Circle Academy, the most prestigious international school in the world. While striving to fit in with this new family and make friends, Alfred must keep his past from returning to haunt him, lest he lose all chance he has for happiness.
1. The Death Sentence

**Hey guys! This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I've been working on it for a while, so I really hope you like it!**

**Oh, and I guess I should do one of these: I do not own Hetalia or anything else referenced in here. Though I do own a giant stuffed purple dango with which I sleep every night. **

**It is rated T fo language, violence, and possible future drug mentions, though nothing explicit.**

**So, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter!**

He glared down at the man who knelt before him. This man had taken everything from him: home, family, livelihood, honor. And yet he had the gall to look terrified? To plead for his life as he looked down the barrel of the shaking gun in his executioner's hand? This was justice. He wasn't a hero. No, he was an avenger. He tightened his finger on the trigger, ready to release the bullet that would simultaneously free and bind his soul.

"Alfred! Stop! Don't shoot!"

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><p>"Circle Academy: Where Great Minds And Solid Relationships Are Cultivated." Alfred F. Jones read aloud the name written in elegant script on the envelope lying on the expensive marble island in the middle of the insanely large kitchen. Even though he had been living with his uncle for a month now, he still hadn't adjusted to the extravagant lifestyle of his English relatives. He was just a simple boy from New York, not an aristocrat!<p>

"That is correct," his uncle replied excitedly, "I managed to get you into the most prestigious international school in the world. I'm sure you will have a wonderful time there!"

Alfred sighed as he glanced at his uncle. Charles Kirkland, the current Prime Minister of England, was a kind man. He was middle aged and attractive, though he had very large eyebrows, which, unfortunately, had been passed on to his six sons. He was obviously wealthy, if his mansion was anything to go by, and though 'Uncle Charlie' had been nothing but hospitable and kind to him ever since he arrived, Alfred still felt lost and out of place.

Charles noticed Alfred's reluctance and his gaze softened. Alfred was like his mother in so many ways: his unruly golden blonde hair, his lightly tanned skin, his clear, twinkling blue eyes, his wide friendly smile. However, what pained him the most was Alfred's optimism and flamboyance. Catherine had been the complete opposite, refined and gentle, and so very fragile. _It must be inherited from that unruly American she eloped with_, Charles thought bitterly. He had nver felt so betrayed. He hadn't spoken to her again. Charles snapped himself out of his musings with a sigh. It was no good to think of the past, now. It only riled him up.

"I'll give you some time to look over the packet. If you have any questions, ask Arthur." Charles ruffled Alfred's hair and left the room.

"Thanks, Uncle Charlie!" Alfred called to his retreating uncle. Seating himself on a stool, he adjusted his glasses and began reading the packet.

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><p>"Aren't you excited, Al? We're going to a new school tomorrow! We'll officially be in junior high!" Eleven-year-old Alfred looked up from packing his Captain America backpack to look at his twin brother, Matthew, who sat on their shared bed hugging his stuffed polar bear. Matthew had slightly longer hair than Alfred and different glasses, but otherwise they were identical. However, they differed greatly in character. Alfred was loud, boisterous and fun loving, while Matthew was calm, polite, and mature. Nonetheless, they were as close as brothers could be, and each other's best friend and staunchest supporter.<p>

"Sure, Mattie. I'm pretty excited. I wonder how many friends I'll make. You want to have a contest to see who gets more friends?"

Matthew sighed. Alfred didn't mean any offense by it, but Matthew was always rather jealous of how Alfred was able to hold the attention of everyone around him. In comparison, Matthew seemed to blend into the woodwork. He was even sometimes mistaken for his more popular brother. Matthew knew he could never hate his brother. He meant well, but he really was just clueless.

"You know there's more to school than hanging out, Al. We go there to-"

"I know, I know. We go to school to learn. I've heard that whole speech plenty of times Mattie, but if there's no point in school if we only focus on the learning or we might as well be home schooled."

Matthew laughed. "That's so like you. But you know, you're really a genius at some subjects. If you put a little more effort into your schooling, you could get into any college you wanted for engineering or technology or even international relations."

Alfred waved his hand dismissively. College was too far away to worry about. All he was concerned with was having fun right now. "You're pretty smart yourself, Mattie, so don't bother with me. You can be the brains. I'll be the brawn. After all, I'm the hero!"

Matthew just rolled his eyes. "You get that silly hero complex from dad, you know. But you don't really know what a hero is. If you did, you wouldn't want to be one."

Alfred snorted in response. "I don't want to hear that from my crybaby little brother. Who's the one who always beats up your bullies? Besides, I've read so many more superhero comic books than you!"

The quiet blonde couldn't help smiling at his brother's naiveté. "Sure, you've beaten my bullies, because you're crazily overprotective, and you've definitely read more hero comics than I have, but that doesn't make you a hero. A hero has to have a certain mentality."

Alfred blinked. What was Mattie going on about this time?

Matthew smiled at his clueless brother. "You have to be willing to sacrifice anything to protect those you love. Anything. You have to be willing to give up everything you have for the greater good. Could you really do that?"

Alfred nodded resolutely. "Of course I could, Mattie! I would do anything to protect you."

"What if the thing you had to give up _was_ me? Could you go on? Could you still be a hero?"

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><p>Alfred blinked the tears out of his eyes. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep on the school information until he looked down at the slightly drooled on papers. Reading did that to him, sometimes. "I'll just ask Artie all about it." Alfred declared, making his way up the extravagant winding staircase to his cousin's room.<p>

It wasn't hard to find. Even if the mansion was a maze, all he had to do was follow the shouting that led him to a large oak door. He took a deep breath and opened the door- only to be bowled into by the mischievous twins of the house. Shamus and Liam were having fun tormenting their younger brother, as usual.

"That'll teach you to draw a mustache in indelible ink on my unicorn! The curse will activate at midnight! You're in for a world of pain!" A red and fuming Brit wagged his finger warningly at the retreating twins, who did naught but laugh. Alfred just blinked. He didn't even want to know.

"Heya, Artie!" He called up to his angry cousin, who seemed rather embarrassed to be seen in such a state by Alfred.

"My name is Arthur, and what do you want?" He ruffled his (clearly bleached if his dark eyebrows were anything to go by, Alfred noted) spiky blonde hair and glared defensively with burning Emerald eyes and indignant, thick eyebrows as Alfred rose from the floor. Arthur didn't like to have to look up at his taller, though slightly younger, cousin.

"Just wondering if you could tell me about this Circle Academy I'm supposed to be attending. I kinda fell asleep reading the packet, and thought you would explain it better anyway."

Arthur gaped. "You got into Circle Academy? I don't believe it! Father must have pulled a lot of strings to get an uncouth idiot like you into the best international school. Fine. Come in."

Alfred pouted. Arthur really didn't like him for some reason. His pout dropped when he got a look at Arthur's room. He had never been in it before, as Arthur spent as little time as possible around him. The place was huge! A massive king sized bed was set up against the wall with a huge flat screen TV on the opposite side so he could watch 'telly' from bed. There was a walk in closet, a sofa, bookshelves full of books covering a whole wall and a snack bar across from it. _How frickin' rich are these people?_

Arthur lounged on the sofa and Alfred settled himself on the floor in front of him.

"Well," Arthur cleared his throat, "The first thing you should know is that, even though it is an international school, it uses the American school system. The founder of the academy was greatly inspired by American schooling, it seems. Strangely enough, I don't know of a single American in the school. Probably too stupid to get in." Alfred glowered but held his tongue. "You will be a sophomore in high school, and though we will undoubtedly share classes, I refuse to interact with you while we are at school. Understood?" Arthur waited for Alfred's nod and continued. "Another very important thing you should know is that Circle Academy covers all grades, from preschool through university. You may think this unimportant, but it will affect your school life greatly. The truth is, the founder, Romulus Vargas established the academy almost thirty years ago, so it is still extremely young. However, it has thrived so well because of his connections. He is a very wealthy man and he has many well-to-do friends who put their children in his preschool. Of course, when some of the most influential people from all over the world put their children in one school, it gains a reputation and grows. My brothers and I all grew up there since child-hood, as did the majority of the students, so we all know each other very well. I'm afraid you will quite stick out. Not only will you be the only American, you will also be practically the only new face since kindergarden. Good luck!" He smirked.

"That's fine!" Alfred tried hard to keep his nerves from showing, "I like a little attention. I'm sure I'll fit in just fine."

"Hmm." Arthur didn't seem so convinced as he glared down skeptically at his 'commoner' cousin. Alfred, in his jeans and t-shirt didn't even fit in on the expensive oriental carpet. How did he expect to blend in with a whole school of aristocrats? Arthur huffed out a laugh. Not like it mattered to him! What happened to Alfred was his own problem. "I've told you about the school. Now leave." He pointed to the door.

"Wait, isn't there more?" Alfred gazed in confusion.

"The founder will tell you on your first day, now go away." Arthur glared.

"Fine, fine." Alfred mumbled, slouching out of the room. He had a week. One week before his life at Circle Academy would begin, and he had things he wanted to do before he died.

**I guess I should start off by saying there will most likely be no real pairings in this story, and no yaoi. I may hint at a pairing or two-*ahem* pruhun *ahem* What? I didn't say anything!- but there will be no real romance. (Mainly because I suck at writing it!) This will forcus on Friendship, Angst, Tragedy and lots and lots of fluffy bromance! **

**Also, I don't bash, so if you think I'm hating on Arthur, Ivan, the BTT or anyone else, please don't give up on me! I love them all, so all will turn out well. They can just be jerks sometimes, ya know?**

**I will update every Monday at first, though I may have to cut it down to every other Monday as the story goes on, because I don't have all my chapters written. I swear on my Captain America shield that I will not give up this fic! **

**So what'd ya think? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Any questions, comments or critiques are greatly appreciated. Please send me a little review and consider your good deed of the day done!**

**Thanks!**

**8i8**

**sparklybutterfly42~**

**edit: sorry, for some reason FF deleted my line breaks, so it looked all confusing. **


	2. The Hero's Creed

**Hi again! Thank you to those who commented and followed! I'm off to a slow start, but I'm sure things will pick up.**

**A little warning: Arthur's a little mean in this chapter. I assure you he's not a villain! I really like him, but for the story's sake, he and Alfred don't get along _at first. _Things will get better between them. Also, Alistair and Owain are Scotland and Wales respictively, while Shamus and Liam are N. Ireland and Ireland. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, sadly. But I do own an awesome bomber facket that my great uncle used in the Korean war. A guy offered me 5 grand for it once and I turned him down. True story.**

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><p>Throughout Alfred's 'last week of freedom', his nervousness progressively grew. Since childhood, he had been the type of person who could make himself comfortable in any situation, but life had changed very drastically since-<p>

_No. Don't think about that._ Either way, perhaps it was the move across the ocean or the fact that he would be completely out of his element in such a high-class school, but he could barely contain his feeling of apprehension. How would the old Alfred have handled the situation? _Probably, I would have burst through the doors declaring my heroism and laughing loudly._ He smirked at the memory. _Why can't things be that simple, now?_

It was Sunday evening and he couldn't sleep. All his fears and memories bounced around inside his head, making him feel sick from the overwhelming chaos.

_Calm down, Alfie,_ He urged himself, _Everything will turn out just fine. What would Matthew have done to calm you down?_

Alfred quietly slipped out of bed and padded over to his closet. Taking a deep breath, he reached all the way into the back corner and took out a box. The box of the only remains of his family: two jars of ash and a couple belongings. He drew his eyes away from the jars and brushed past his mother's apron and his father's old superhero comic books to grab the small stuffed polar bear at the bottom of the box, sitting next to his worn blue whale. It had been Matthew's most treasured possession.

They had won the stuffed toys from the claw machine in Hiroshi Yamamoto's Japanese restaurant. Mr. Yamamoto knew very little English when he immigrated to New York, and when he moved into their neighborhood, he was found by the boys, especially Alfred, who took it as their personal duty to show him the ropes of being American, including teaching him English. In return, he cooked them delicious Japanese food and taught them to speak basic Japanese as well.

When Alfred drew the whale out of the machine, he immediately dubbed it 'whale-dude', but Matthew couldn't quite think of the right name.

'Kumajirou,' Mr. Yamamoto had said simply, never being one for words.

Matthew had agreed that the name was perfect, but readily forgot it. Alfred chuckled as he remembered the many names Matthew had called the bear, trying to recall the right one. Pushing the box back into the closet, Alfred carried Kuma and Whale-dude to bed, and, breathing in the sweet nostalgic scent of the carefree past, fell into a peaceful sleep.

He was awakened by a flash of light and a burst of laughter. Blinking groggily, he opened his eyes and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, and, placing them on the bridge of his nose, looked over to the source of the disturbance. Shamus and Liam were grinning while holding a camera, while Arthur smirked nearby. Alfred groaned inwardly.

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><p>"Good Morning, Sunshine," Arthur's smirk grew, "I didn't know you slept with a teddy bear and- is that a whale?" The twins doubled over in laughter, peeking at the camera screen. <em>Probably future blackmail material. <em>Alfred grimaced.

"This coming from the guy with the collection of stuffed unicorns in his closet?" Alfred groused. Arthur immediately turned a bright shade of red.

"I-idiot! That's not any of your business, you git! What were you doing in my closet anyway?"

"Wait," Alfred perked up, "You're serious?" There was a beat of stunned silence and then he burst into raucous laughter. "Haha! That's hilarious! You're like a girl, Artie!"

Arthur's glaring eyes promised pain to the American should he continue laughing. That is, until they widened out of fear.

The twins were missing.

"Oh no you don't!" The furious Brit charged from Alfred's room: a man on a mission. A mission, this is, to save his stuffed unicorns.

Alfred sighed and crawled out of bed, determined to make the first day at this new school work.

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><p>Alfred thanked heavens for Uncle Charlie. When the man said, 'anything to make you feel at home,' he really meant it! The American was sat at the huge dining room table eating a large bowl of Reese's Puffs and a donut. He had heard that buying American food in England was very expensive. A simple box of OREO cookies cost the equivalent of almost 10 dollars! He didn't think he could have lived without his OREOs.<p>

His musing was disturbed, however, by a derisive snort from behind him. He turned to see Owain, Alistair, and Arthur enter the room. Owain was three years older than Arthur, While Alistair was four year older. Both had the same Kirkland Eyebrows and choppy hair, though Owain's was strawberry blonde and Alistair's was a deep auburn. Both older boys attended Circle Academy's University of Business, though Owain, who had instantly taken a liking to his younger American cousin, confided in Alfred that he secretly wanted to become a harpist instead. Nonetheless, he knew his duty and understood it was beneath his high education to follow such a silly dream.

"Are you really going to wear that?" Arthur glanced skeptically at Alfred's attire: jeans, converse, his old bomber jacket and a Captain America t-shirt.

"Why not? I don't see you in a uniform." Alfred got out between spoons-full of cereal. Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"It is true that Circle Academy doesn't issue uniforms, but that is only because it encourages the foreign students to continue wearing their traditional clothing. Those of us who do not have traditional clothing must dress appropriately." Arthur drew attention to his clean sweater vest, dress shirt, slacks, and well-polished shoes.

"These are traditional!" Alfred argued. "Jeans were invented in America during the California gold rush, T-shirts became a staple for American army men during the Spanish-American War, Converse have been made by a company in Massachusetts since the early 1900s, and this bomber jacket happens to be the very jacket my grandfather used during World War II _and_ the Korean War. How much more traditional can you get? Don't tell me your sweater vest was hand knitted by Queen Elizabeth? It looks old enough." He viewed the vest with mock seriousness, tapping his index finger to his chin.

"No it is not, but at least it looks classier than what you're wearing! Ugh. Forget it, you twat." Arthur turned away and grabbed his laptop bag. "Hurry up. The chauffer will take us in five minutes, and I don't want to be late because of you."

Alfred grumbled something along the lines of 'stupid, spoiled rich people', which Arthur blatantly ignored.

"Don't worry, Alfred," Owain smiled softly at the American, "You look fine. As long as you're comfortable, that's what matters, right? I'm sure the founder would agree."

Alfred returned Owain's smile. Ever since Alfred arrived, his older cousin had been very kind to him. He had instantly felt that Owain would make a great big brother. Alistair, on the other hand, was rather intimidating. He was clearly the leader among the others and the only one who could keep them in line aside from their father and mother. Speaking of their mother-

"When's Aunt Meg coming back, Artie?"

"Her name is Margaret and mine is Arthur. Get it right, idiot! Why must you always give us such derogatory names! You haven't even met her yet, and you already are calling her such a ridiculous name. And I believe she will return next week, along with Peter."

"It's not ridiculous or derogatory. It's affectionate! A nickname!" Alfred glared defensively. "Excuse me for trying to fit in around here! I'm only trying to get along with you guys."

"Well, don't try! You don't fit in and never will! You are a lazy, common idiot! You won't fit into our family like that! Your own family leaves you and you think you can just force yourself into ours? Not a chance! You want a nickname? How about fatso? Or loser? Or stupid? Would any one of those make you feel more at home? I must say they suit you quite well. Why don't you just-"

"That's enough, brat." Alistair growled out in a menacing voice. Arthur immediately shut his mouth in fear. He had blown up again. How could he never control his awful temper? Remorsefully, he glanced at Alfred, an apology on the tip of his tongue. But what he saw shocked him.

Alfred was smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning.

"Any one of those would do me just fine, Artie." Arthur noticed that though his face remained smiling, his voice wavered with an overflowing emotion. Arthur felt guilty.

"Alfred, I'm –"

"No. Forget it. It's fine. You guys ride. I'll walk to school. I'll find my way. I'm the hero, after all."

He grabbed his bag and headed toward the front door, his speechless cousins left behind him. As he exited the kitchen, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He held them back. No one would ever see him cry. That was his creed.

_Mom. Dad. Mattie. Why did you have to leave me?_

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><p><strong>I'm sorry he was so mean!<strong>

**Also, the thing about OREOs is true. A box of OREOs at Tesco costs 6 pounds, approximately $9.80. Seriously. **

**I hope you enjoyed! I would love a review! Even a simple 'nice' or 'it sucks' would be appreciated. I like to know what people think of how it's going!**

**I am off to Florida on Wednesday, but will be back in time to post again next Monday!**

**Thanks so much!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	3. Conversing With the Dead

**Here's chapter 3! **

**I want to thank my awesome guest reviewer who encouraged me last chapter. It's frankly disappointing that I don't get more reviews, but I won't give up! I'm sorry to tell you, dear guest, that you won't find out what happened to Alfred's family for a while. You'll get bits and pieces of the story, but won't see the full view until the end. Sorry!**

**Anywho, I don't own Hetalia. Sad but true. I don't even own Lovino or Alfred, my favorite characters. Maybe one day...**

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><p>"Do you mind telling me what that was all about, brat?" Alistair's angry voice broke through Arthur's shock. He winced, but turned towards the sound. He deserved his brother's anger. He had done wrong and he knew it.<p>

"I-I don't know. He just annoys me so much, and I don't know why, but I snapped at him. I didn't mean to!" Arthur pleaded with his brother to forgive him, but inside, he knew the one who really needed to forgive him was Alfred.

"What just happened?" Shamus' voice broke through the tension. Arthur hadn't even noticed the twins had entered. "Alfred just left, and he seemed really upset."

"We'll talk about this later," Owain cut in. "Right now, we have to go to school. Perhaps we'll see Alfred along the way and pick him up."

The twins and Owain grabbed their bags and trudged out the door to the waiting limousine, but Alistair and Arthur remained in the kitchen longer.

"This isn't over yet, brat. I'll have a talk with you when we get back." Alistair muttered as he headed out the door.

Arthur shivered at the coldness in his brother's voice. 'Talks' with Alistair were never pretty.

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><p>Alfred sat in front of the elegant headstone in the center of the cemetery. Uncle Charlie had buried Alfred's mother here in the nearby church cemetery when he found out about her death. Apparently, he had been very close to his sister, and wanted her to be buried nearby his home at the High Anglican church they had attended as children and Charles continued to attend with his children and wife. <em>Poor Dad and Mattie. Mom and I were struggling financially and had to get them cremated. We couldn't even afford to bury their ashes, let alone buy a tombstone. <em>Alfred had kept the jars of their ashes, never telling his uncle that he wished they could be buried with his mom. Uncle Charlie really didn't seem to like dad. He'd probably refuse. And Alfred had never told him about Mattie. _He'd probably never heard of him from Mom either. _It hurt him to think that his poor, overlooked brother would never be remembered by anyone other than him, even after his untimely death.

Alfred stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans, rubbing his eyes one last time. Funny, how during her life, his mother had never seen him cry, but now he could openly weep in front of her grave. His father had told him that 'Men never let others see them cry. Heroes don't make people worry.' Whenever he'd needed to cry as a child, he had hidden himself away. If she ever found him, he'd tell her he was playing hide and seek, or he had a cold, and that's why he was sniffling. She had always believed him.

"I miss you mom. I was angry at first, but now I'm just sad. Why would you leave me? I needed you! I tried so hard to keep us together but now you're gone. I just don't know what to do anymore." Alfred felt his eyes well up again and took a deep breath to calm himself. He was done crying and he had to get to school. Without a second glance back, he walked swiftly away from his mother's grave.

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><p>"Ah~! <em>Alfredo<em>! You must be _Alfredo_! I'm so happy to see you! _Grazie_ for coming to my school! It is so very strange to have new students, and a student from America is even more exciting! You know, I love America and American schools in general. I never told this to anyone, but the real reason we don't have any Americans here is that many of their schools are superior to ours. That is, of course, why I modeled my school after American schools. Still, why would American parents send their children to my school when theirs are just as good and even cheaper? They wouldn't! Of course, don't tell anyone here that I said that. I don't want to lose students, now~!"

Alfred stared blankly at the strange man who had been talking his ear off since he arrived. Could this be the headmaster, Romulus Vargas? He took a moment to study the man, who, if his accent and name were any indication, was Italian. Though he must have been at least sixty years old, his hair was a thick and curly brown and he was very tall and fit. He had a childish face and cheery brown eyes. But what stuck out most of all about him was the toga. Yes, he was wearing a toga. Apparently, he took the traditional clothing dress code very seriously.

"-And they are just too cute! Especially my little Feli~! he loves pasta and singing and pretty girls just like all Italians should. And his art is _bellisimo_! He really has talent, that boy. Now if only Lovi~ could follow his example."

Was he still talking? Alfred watched in awe. Living in New York, he had met many Italians, and they had all been chatterboxes who gesticulated too often. However, even his old friend Nico Valentini, who owned a pizza shop near Alfred's house, couldn't compare to this man.

"-And I said to the pretty girl, '_Ciao_~' and she practically swooned into my arms-"

"Excuse me, but shouldn't I be getting to class?" Alfred spoke up. He really wasn't looking forward to class, but it couldn't be worse than having his ear talked off by a crazy Italian. Right?

"Ah~ _Mi Dispiace_, _Alfredo_! Of course you must get to class! Here is your schedule! I'm Sure you can find it by yourself, right?"

"Sure!" Alfred said quickly. Anything to get away.

"_Bene_! I must go off to stalk- I mean see my precious little Feli~! He is just too cute~! _Ciao_~" And then he was gone.

"_Addio_." Alfred muttered. "Now to find my room."

He glanced around and spotted two blondes chatting by the lockers. Well, one was chatting. The other just stared at the talking boy with an intimidating face.

"Hey, you guys." The smaller blonde stopped talking and looked toward Alfred in surprise. The taller one continued to stare. "I'm new here. Could you tell me where room 107 is? I have to get to my Literature class."

"Ah. Yes, I would love to help!" The blonde smiled cheerily. The tall one's face didn't change, but he did nod. "My name is Tino. Tino Väinämöinen. I am from Finland. This is Berwald Oxenstierna. He is from Sweden." He gazed curiously at Alfred. "Are you from America? I have never really met an American before. Have you, Berwald?" the intimidating blonde shook his head.

"Yup!" Alfred grinned; proud to be the first American they met. "I'm from New York! Name's Alfred F. Jones. Nice to meet ya!"

Tino smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. "It is wonderful to meet you, Alfred. 107 is down the hall and after one right and one left. Good luck with Mr. William. He takes literature very seriously."

"G'd L'ck." Berwald grunted.

"Thanks guys" Alfred grinned. "Maybe I'll see you later!" With one last wave, he turned on his heel and headed toward class. Following the directions Tino gave him, Alfred finally arrived at the room. Suddenly, his nerves went haywire and he breathed deeply to calm himself down, and after a beat, he knocked on the door. The classroom noise from beyond the wooden door hushed, and Alfred felt his face heating up. A measured tread paced toward the door and it swung inward. He looked up into the face of who he assumed must be Mr. William.

"Ah. You must be the new boy. The headmaster informed me of your arrival. Come in." Alfred nodded and entered the room, his boisterous personality taking over his nervousness.

"Now, I know this is extremely rare," Mr. William addressed the sea of shocked faces, "but we have a new student starting with us today." He turned to Alfred. "Introduce yourself, lad."

Alfred nodded vigorously then looked at all the students. His eyes passed over Arthur, who seemed to be trying to ignore him. There were at least thirty of them in just this one class. How many were there in the whole school?

"I'm Alfred F. Jones," His cheery voice rang out loudly, despite his nerves, "I'm from New York, and I'm the hero! Nice to meet ya!" A stunned silence followed his introduction, as the class took in the American boy in his casual clothes, face beaming.

"Ah, well, Mister Jones, please sit over there next to Mister Vargas, and we will continue this class."

"'Kay!" Alfred smiled as he bounced over to the assigned seat and dropped his backpack. As Mr. William turned back to the lesson on Othello, Alfred turned to the boy sitting next to him. He had curly brown hair with one longer curl sticking out of the right side of his head. He had golden eyes and an angry scowl on his face.

"Hey, are you Lovi~?" Alfred whispered to the boy.

The boy's scowl deepened. "Who the hell called me that?" He spat out.

"The headmaster." Alfred was surprised by the anger in his voice. He really didn't act like Romulus Vargas.

"Damn Bastard." He muttered. "He knows I hate it when he calls me that. Don't ever believe what he tells you. My _Nonno_ is stupid. And don't even think of calling me Lovi~, jerk! My name's Lovino!"

"Sure thing!" Alfred readily agreed. Best to stay on this one's good side. If he had one, that is…

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><p><strong>There will be words in other languages in this story, but they're all obvious, like 'ciao' or 'bonjour'. When characters speak full sentences in other languages later in the story, they will be written in English in italics. Just know that those are supposed to be in a foreign language. I hate when I read a story and have to scroll to the bottom of the page to get what's going on.<strong>

**Some of my OCs are based off of historical characters, so care to guess who Mr. William, the Literature teacher is based off of? 50 Doitsu points to the winner!**

**Ah, I love Lovino. He's so cute! He may be foul mouthed. Sorry. That's just how he is.**

**Please send me a lovely review! I can't tell you how happy it would make me.**

**Until next time!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	4. An Unexpected Ally

**Howdy Y'all! Thanks so much for the amazing reviews and favorites and follows! I get all emotional when I get a new one! Congrats to multicultureiskey and RikaFurude13 for guessing Mr. Williams' identity. Yes, he is based off of William Shakespeare. I kinda love that dude.**

**Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I do not own Hetalia, though I do own an awesome set of mini Shakespeare play volumes from the 1800s! **

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><p>Alfred studied the students around him. They were all obviously well-bred if their clothes were anything to go by. The boys wore well-pressed suits or at least dressy slacks and preppy sweaters with blazers, while the girls wore tailored dresses or skirt suits that alone probably cost more than all the clothes he had owned in his life put together. Alfred did see some students in traditional clothing, including a boy in a yukata and another in a hanbok. The students seemed to be surveying Alfred as well, and he grew slightly embarrassed when they kept glancing at his clothes and whispering to themselves. He was interrupted from his surveillance when he heard a throat clearing above him.<p>

He quickly glanced up to see Mr. William. The man was staring down at him and boring into the boy with his eyes. He did not seem pleased.

"Mister Jones. Can you answer the question?" Alfred felt like a deer in the headlights. He hadn't been paying attention! What would he do? This guy seemed pretty angry. He was startled when Lovino tapped on his open workbook at a question on the page. Was the fiery Italian helping _him_? He glanced down and read the question in his own text.

_What do you think is the moral of __Othello__?_

A beat of silence followed as Alfred tried to put his thoughts into words. He had read the story before, and it had greatly saddened him. Othello was so pitiable. The thought of such a good and honest man being corrupted so thoroughly that he would even kill his own wife was horrifying. And the saddest part was that his fault lay in trusting the wrong man, one who should have been his friend! Alfred pondered these thoughts. Really, he had a lot in common with Othello, didn't he?

"I don't blame Othello," he began, "for what he did. He was a very good man who was betrayed by one he trusted.

_Just like I was._

"He was lied to, and because of his low self esteem due to years of prejudice, he believed it without a second thought, thinking that it was what he deserved, losing the one he loved. He wasn't worthy of her.

_I failed them. I failed them all._

"But then his jealousy overwhelmed him, and he became a monster, killing the one he loved, because if he couldn't have her, no one could.

_Only she killed herself. I wanted to protect her, but she left me. _

"He wasn't enough for her, he thought. He gave everything, but was never enough.

_I was never enough. Even she said so._

"And then, when he discovered he'd been lied to, he killed himself out of grief.

_Only it wasn't a lie. It was all true. And I'm still alive. Why am I still alive? Why am I alive when they are dead?_

"The moral of the story? People are fragile. Their minds hang on a delicate balance between sanity and insanity. Break that balance and they can turn into monsters, sometimes never to return. Tread lightly. You never know when you'll step on a landmine."

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><p><em>He was betrayed by the one he trusted.<em>

_He was lied to, and because of his low self esteem due to years of prejudice, he believed it without a second thought, thinking that it was what he deserved, losing the one he loved. He wasn't worthy of her._

Lovino slammed his locker open and put his books inside. There was more to Alfred F. Jones than met the eye. What the other students may have seen as a simple summary of a piece of literature, Lovino could see as a life story. He too, had felt alone and betrayed once. He had felt the jealousy that comes with losing someone you care for to another. Thinking you weren't worthy. He had felt it.

He had been betrayed once, and he had never truly recovered. He never let anyone: not _Nonno_ nor Feliciano nor even that idiot Antonio get close to him. If they got close, they could hurt him.

"Loviiiii~"

"Hmph. Speak of the devil."

"Ah! _Lovinito_! Were you thinking of me, _amigo_?" Lovino looked up to see Antonio Fernandez Carriedo literally skipping toward him. The Spanish boy's curly brown hair bounced with the movement and his olive eyes shone.

"Like hell, tomato bastard."

"Now Loviiiii~ Don't say that! Come eat with me and Francis and Gil!"

"No way in hell am I eating with your sick friends. And my name is Lovino, dammit!"

"But Lovi, they aren't sick. Don't worry about getting your food infected! And I brought tomatoes today! Eat with me!"

"Not that kind of sick, idiot! I'm eating with someone else today! Shut up and leave me alone!" He accentuated the order with a slam of his locker as he stomped away from the deflating Spaniard. Antonio sighed and went off to find his friends and report how cruel his little _tomate_ was being today.

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><p>Alfred had avoided the cafeteria like the plague. Just the thought of being the only American and new student surrounded by hundreds of posh and prissy aristocrats made him cringe. Sure, no one had openly mocked him, but he hadn't really made friends yet. Though Tino and Berwald and even Lovino had seemed rather nice.<p>

Alfred settled down on a bench in the garden. Circle Academy had a beautiful garden, and this spot was possibly the most peaceful place in it. An arbor of trees shadowed the bench, while nearby; a few ducks swam in a massive lily pond. The sun shone brightly and there wasn't a rain cloud in the sky: a far cry from the weather he'd experienced here so far. The stillness was broken when a tramp of feet alerted him to another presence fast approaching. To his surprise, the scowling face of Lovino rounded a tree. He stopped short when he saw the American.

"What are you doing in my spot?" He growled, narrowing his golden eyes.

"Oh, sorry, dude. I didn't know it was yours. I'll leave." Alfred quickly turned to walk away.

"N-no. It's fine. If you're so set on staying, you can, _bastardo_." The boy blushed a deep red. "D-don't get the wrong idea! It's not like I want you here!"

Alfred smiled and sat back down. "Thanks." Lovino looked surprised.

"For what, _bastardo_" He glared.

"For helping me out with Mr. William. I _so_ did not want to be written up on my first day." Lovino nodded his acceptence. "Sooo…" Alfred searched for a topic of conversation. "You hiding out here to get away from the noise too? You can eat lunch with me if you want!"

Lovino nodded as he took out his lunch: pasta with tomatoes and garlic. Alfred unwrapped his own burger and started munching on it. "They're all so loud and stupid. Especially that stupid Antonio. He always bugs me!"

"Who's Antonio?" Alfred queried. "I don't think I've met him."

"And you don't want to." Lovino warned. "Wherever he goes, Francis and Gilbert are sure to be nearby, and you're in for hell if you get on _their _blacklist! They consider themselves the heart-throbs of the school, and maybe they are, but all I know is that they're bad business. They're bullies. Once, back in second grade, Gilbert and Francis, who had already formed a bond, were bullying me. Antonio got really angry and beat them up, and ever since, they've been fast friends. He may look innocent, but he's not a part of the 'Bad Touch Trio' for nothing."

"Well, at least he stuck up for you. That makes him a hero, so he must not be that bad!"

Lovino snorted. "Just you wait, jerk. Just you wait."

"Oh right!" Alfred's exclaimation broke the comfortable silence that had settled, which had been disturbed only by the satisfied noises one makes while eating something particularly tasty. "I've been seriously wondering this, but I forgot to ask the headmaster. What does the 'Circle' in 'Circle Academy' stand for?"

"Hm. Well, It's some old eastern philosophy called Karma. Whatever goes around comes around and what not. _Nonno _always liked that philosophy. He said it would encourage the students to do good, because if they didn't, they would pay for it." Lovino replied in a bored tone as he packed away his empty container.

Alred too, crumpled up his wrappings and wiped his face with a napkin to remove any traces of his meal. "True, that's the more modern version of Karma, but I once knew an Indian dude who explained to me the true meaning. Real Karma is cruel fate: predestination. It says that all bad things that happen to you happen as punishment for the evils committed by your past life. I don't believe in that stuff, really, but it still seems so unfair." _Even though it would make absolute sense of my life._

Lovino nodded. It made sense of what had happened to him. It wasn't like he had done anything to deserve being abandoned. Perhaps Karma was real? Maybe he'd been a pickpocket in his past life. The thought made him chuckle. Alfred glanced at him curiously and only then did he notice how relaxed he was.

He never allowed himself to be this close to anyone, so why this stupid American that he'd just met? Why did he feel like he could trust him with all his secret thoughts and not be laughed at? He'd needed time to think about this.

"I'm going in." He stood and brushed off his clothes, turning to go.

"M'kay. Seeya around, Lovino!" Alfred cheerily replied as he watched the boy leave. With a contented sigh, he lay down in the soft grass. Maybe living here wouldn't be too bad.

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><p><strong>Taadaa! Now you know where the title comes from! Seriously, though. Karma's cruel. <strong>

**A yukata is like a kimono. It's Japanese, while a hanbok is Korean.**

**Also, I love Othello. That play seriously made me cry. Poor Othello! For those who don't know the story, basically Othello is a Moorish general in the Venician army, and his trusted soldier Rodrigo is pissed becuase Othello promoted another younger soldier, Cassio, over him. So he manipulates Othello into believing Cassio is sleeping wth Othello's wife, Desdemona. Othello believes him, because he has very low self esteem and doesn't think she could love him in the first place. He smothers her with a pillow in a fit of rage, and when he finds out the truth, kills himself. It's super depressing. The true meaning of a tragedy is 'A good person allows his fatal flaw to corrupt him and brings about his own demise.'**

**Lovino became much more of a main character than I expected. Though I guess it shouldn't be much of a surprise, because I love him so much. He will definitely be a good friend to Alfred. (I think people like Alfred, Feli, and Antonio are the only ones who can really put up with Lovi's abusive tsundere-ness.)**

**Please review! Meanwhile I will go out and make a snowman. We got at least six inches since early morning an it's great packing snow! Plus, I love it because it got me out of work and babysitting, which is why I can get this chapter out earlier!**

**Thanks for reading! **

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**

**Edit: IndestructibleInk pointed out to me that I used the word 'ejaculation' instead of 'exclaimation'. I seriously didn't know what connotations it has now, so I'm super sorry! It actually can mean the same thing as exclaim, but I guess that's not the common usage anymore! *blush***


	5. A New Foe

**Heyaz!**

**Enjoying the Winter Olypics everyone? I fell madly in love with Yuzuru Hanyu and am currently planning our wedding. He needs to get back to me about the ring first, of course. But why would he say no? **

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows! **

**I do not own Hetalia, but I do own 'Japanese for Dummies' and 'Russian in a Nutshell'. Just two easy-to-understand manuals closer to my dream of being a polyglot!**

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><p>Alfred yawned and stretched as The warning bell chimed. He had to get back to class. He pulled out his schedule and glanced at it. Literature had already passed, and thanks to Lovino, he'd gotten through okay. Advanced Calculus had followed, and, being gifted in math, he did very well. He also enjoyed Chemistry Lab. Now, after lunch he had just two more classes before he could leave. World History and Mandarin.<p>

Alfred sighed. _I guess I have to go. Playing hooky is probably a felony around here._

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><p>When Alfred entered the World History room, he instantly felt all eyes on him. He greeted the teacher, a Signor Paolo Marcos, and introduced himself as he had at every class that day, and after being assigned a seat, trudged over to his place. He tried to ignore the stares and whispers. Let them look! He was the hero! Of course they would be awed by him! As he sat down in his seat, he noticed three boys directly behind and on either side of him staring at him even more intensely than the rest, and it made him very nervous. Though one, a Hispanic boy, seemed very friendly, the blonde and- was that one an albino?- stared as if surveying a prey and considering what form of death would be most fun for them and give him the most pain. Alfred gulped. Heroes were never afraid! He also noticed that Arthur was in this class. He hadn't seen him since Literature.<p>

Signor Marcos cleared his throat and the students turned their attention to him. Alfred, though, still felt as if eyes were on him. "Last year we ended with the bubonic plague that spread throughout Europe in the 14th century, also known as the Black Death. Today we will review. Can anyone tell me the results of the Black Death?" Arthur raised his hand. "Yes, Mister Kirkland?"

"Well for one, there were fewer peasants so they were in higher demand as workers. When the nobles needed people to harvest their fields, the peasants could charge very high prices and the nobles couldn't refuse. This, many historians believe, led to a better economy throughout Europe and a lessening of social differences." Alfred snorted. _And yet they're all looking down on me because I'm low class._

"Mister Jones, is something humorous to you?" Alfred glanced up quickly. He hadn't noticed he's scoffed aloud. "Mister Kirkland's answer was perfect as usual. Do you have anything you'd like to add?" Arthur glanced smugly at him.

"A-ah. No. Not at all." Alfred hurriedly replied. History was _not _his strongpoint. Frankly, he sucked. All those dates and names and events boggled his mind. He had worked himself to exhaustion to learn American History, because he thought it would be important, and he'd heard various myths and legends from his many foreign acquaintances, but he knew nothing of some blue bonnet plague or whatever.

"Mister Jones." Signor Marcos' eyes bored into him. "Can you tell what was the cause of the bubonic plague and what percentage of Europe's overall population it wiped out?"

"Um, no?" Alfred tentatively replied.

"Hmph. How could you possibly not know? Don't they teach you anything in American schools?"

"Well, I was supposed to learn Medieval History last year, but I missed out on the beginning of the year, so I never learned it." Alfred could feel his face burning. They all thought he was stupid. How could they know that the reason he missed out was because he had to work to support his mother?

"Well then, I guess you have lots of catching up to do." Signor Marcos landed a large volume labeled World History on his desk. "Pages 720 to 980. I want them done by Wednesday."

"Yes, sir." Alfred muttered.

_Screw what he I said before: living here really sucks._

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><p>Alfred breathed a sigh of relief when World History was finally over. He quickly gathered his books and rushed out the classroom to his locker. His last class of the day was Mandarin, and he was really looking forward to it. He had always loved learning languages, and in his neighborhood in the Bronx, there were many foreign language speakers. In fact, almost 50% of the population spoke a language other than English. Being raised surrounded by so many languages, he and his brother had enjoyed learning many of them. There was always a native speaker to practice with! Unfortunately, he'd never gotten the hang of Chinese. This was the perfect opportunity to learn it! Excited, he closed his locker and turned to leave, only to bump into someone.<p>

"Oh, sorry, dude!" Alfred glanced at the person as he rushed by, but then slowed when he saw who it was. It was the blonde who was staring at him all through class, and his friends were with him as well.

"_Bonjour, mon ami." _The blonde flipped his ponytail in a dramatic manner. "Where are you going in such a rush?" Though he smiled in a friendly manner, his blonde eyes were sharp. The boy was clearly an aristocrat, based on how he was dressed, though the ruffles and lace, not to mention the cravat, would have been more fitting of a noble in the 17th century, rather than the 21st. Alfred inwardly rolled his eyes. This dude was taking the dress code a little _too _far.

"Ummm… Mandarin." Alfred stared blankly. Why was he interested?

"Hmph. Chinese. How could you choose Chinese when French was one of the choices." He shook his head in a pitying manner. The American couldn't know what a poor decision he'd made. He was too stupid.

Alfred just shook his head. He already knew French fluently.

"It's totally not awesome to have a conversation that isn't surrounded around the awesome me." An arrogant voice broke in. Alfred turned to see the purple-red eyes of the albino boring into him. He flashed a predatory grin and Alfred had to suppress a shiver. _He looks like he wants to eat me!_

The albino boy was wearing black pinstripe suit pants and a silky red shirt left mostly unbuttoned. _Was that really necessary?_ He was still talking about how awesome he was.

"Ah." A cheery voice interrupted. "We haven't even introduced ourselves." Alfred turned to the last member of the trio, the beaming Spaniard. "I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. My loud friend is Gilbert Beillshmidt and the Blonde is Francis Bonnefoy. Gilbert is the son of the president of Germany, Francis is the son of the prime minister of France, and I am the second son of the king of Spain. What about you, _amigo? Quien es su padre"_

"Um, well. I'm not really high class, actually." Alfred was awed. So this was the 'Bad Touch Trio that Lovino spoke of. Not _everyone _in the school was extremely influential, though they were all filthy rich. These people were frickin' _royalty_! He _so_ did not belong here. "I'm just a kid from the Bronx. Oh, and my dad was…" He fought back a flash of pain. How could he explain his dad's job? "… a delivery man." That would work for now.

Antonio blinked. "_Que_?"

"Um. He delivered stuff to… influential people." Alfred held in his shame. _Influential indeed._

"Then, I'm sorry to seem rude," The silky voice of the Frenchman cut in, "but what are you doing here?"

"I recently…lost my family and had to move here, and, well, my adoptive family is kinda upper-class. You guys know Arthur Kirkland? He's my cousin."

The Frenchman's jaw dropped and then a sly smile spread over his face. "Is he now? Onhonhon~ _C'est marvailleux!_ _Mon Rosbif _has such a _minable _relative! I will surely hang this over his head next time we meet!"

"You guys know Arthur? And I'm not low-class or pathetic, Frenchie! I'm normal! You people are just freakishly prissy."

"Kesesese~" The albino laughed. "You've got nerve saying such things to us, _arschloch_. You're just a nobody!"

"Now, now." Antonio soothed. "Francis did insult him first. By the way, Alfred, how did you know what he was saying?"

"I speak French fluently." Alfred replied. "It's not quite my favorite language, but I know it well. However, I don't speak Chinese. Speaking of which, I need to get to class. Oh," he turned to Antonio, "If you see Lovino could you ask him to meet me again tomorrow, same time, same place? Thanks, bro." He turned around and swiftly walked away, missing the look of shock on the Spaniard's face.

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><p>"So…" The Frenchman began the conversation. "What are we going to do about this <em>Américain<em>? We cannot allow such low class people to run about our school. They would defile us.''

''So he's the one who my little Lovi ate lunch with. He refused me, but ate with _him_?'' Antonio's eyes burned. He had been trying to get Lovino to open up to him since they met as children, yet he actually had lunch with this American after _just _meeting ?

The harsh german accent of Gilbert broke in to the conversation. "I may have a solution, and it involves a certain Russian."

Antonio gasped. "You can't possibly mean-"

"Who else?" Gilbert smirked. "Yes, I believe Ivan would be willing to knock our dear American back into line." Francis nodded his approval. Antonio, though doubtful, agreed. Hopefully, Ivan wouldn't beat the new boy _too_ badly…

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><p><strong>I feel like this is a crappy chappie. I'm so sorry!<strong>

**So yes. Alfred is a Polyglot, that is, he speaks many languages fluently. I thought it was a little stretch for him to know 5 or 6 fluent languages, but then I saw a boy from New York on Youtube who knew over 20 languages fluently, and then I was like, 'errr... maybe not.' So it's all good.**

**Yet even Alfred, our rising star, is bad at something! He sucks at history. Anyone care to guess who Paolo Marcos is? It's so obvious I want to hit myself for thinking it was clever.**

**About the BTT, they're just narcissistic jerks. Antonio, I think, is only a part of them because, even though he acts all sweet and friendly, if you come within five miles of his Lovino, he'll pelt you with tomatoes so hard you won't be able to tell the juice from your blood. Francis and Gil admire that.**

**And on that happy note, Please Review!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	6. The Ambush

**Hey guys! Sorry I didn't update last week. I was visiting awesome colleges! One of them made me feel really patriotic and like I could change the course of my country, but the other one's mascot is Baron Von Steuben, one of my history idols, so I'm having a hard time picking. :(**

**Anyway, this chapter is probably rough, because I didn't want to jump abruptly into Alistair tearing Arthur down, so I feverishly added everything before that just now. I kinda like how it turned out, though.**

**Anywayz, I have not yet obtained the rights to Hetalia, but I did, in fact, have a bikini bod photo shoot in 3 feet of snow. #YOLO!**

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><p>Arthur had a difficult day getting through school, with Alistair's disappointed face and cold tone distracting him throughout his classes. When time came for him to attend to his student council duties, he was in a foul mood and not at all ready to deal with the student body president. But really, was he ever?<p>

As Arthur placed his school bag in front of his desk, he sighed. As usual, that bloody fool of a president had pushed all of his work onto the second in command. And, as usual, that put Arthur in an even worse mood. Why didn't he just give Arthur the position of president? He already did all the work! But no, that wanker would never allow Arthur to be in command above him. Arthur tried to ignore the image of _his_ gloating face as Arthur was elected Vice President, beaten only by a small margin. _He probably snogged everyone until they promised to vote for him anyway. Eceryone knows I'm more qualified. _Arthur comforted himself. A shiver of disgust ran up his spine as a hand that reeked of rose perfume grope at him.

"_Saluuuut!_" the disgusting voice purred. "And how is _mon rosbif _doing on this lovely day? Glaring only makes those caterpillars on your face more obvious, you know!"

Arthur threw off the offending appendage and whirled upon Francis Bonnefoy. The perverted Frenchman only smirked with delight. How he loved to rile up his little underling.

"Sod off, you bloody frog!" Arthur's voice dripped with venom. "I have no patience for you today!"

Francis clicked his tongue in reproof. "_Non, non, rosbif_. Do not take out the anger you have for being rejected once more because of your hideous eyebrows on me. Come, come. Tell _grand frere _all about it."

Arthur was steaming. He wanted to slug Francis so badly. "Just leave me alone." He managed to force through gritted teeth. In vehemence, he threw himself into his chair and furiously began scribbling his signature in approval to various student petitions without a single clue as to their contents.

Francis' very presence riled him up, and as the French boy turning away with an annoying chuckle of 'onhonhon', Arthur allowed himself a calming breath.

He and Francis had been rivals since childhood. Since their parents were both in high standing, they saw fit to acquaint their children to each other, and when both Charles and Louis were appointed prime minister of their respective countries, well, a friendly rivalry began between the two men over whose sons were more fit to lead.

Needless to say, Arthur and Francis took things too far.

They took every opportunity to one-up the other and prove once and for all who was superior. Of course, they could never truly come to agreement over who was in the lead, and their rivalry grew until they could no longer look at each other without feeling the righteous rage of wounded pride.

Arthur tried to block out the memories of his previous failures. Whenever Francis had trumped him in a contest, be it cooking, painting, or even flower crown making, he felt the shame burn within him as Alistair scoffed at him.

"_Can't you even beat him at the pansy things a wimp like you should be good at?" _The cold words in the memory made Arthur cringe. _"Obviously you can be beaten in sports and weaponry, but can't you even defeat him at cross-stitch?" He turned up his nose in distain at the crumpled embroidery of The Ugly Duckling that Arthur had toiled over. Francis' impeccable Sleeping Beauty had been judged better in craftsmanship by Arthur's brothers, and the young boy had tried to swallow the tears of betrayal. _

The Ugly Duckling cross-stitch, still in its wooden hoop, which Arthur had slaved over and rejoiced in its completion, was no more than a pile of ash by the next day.

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><p>"Why would you say those things to him?" Alistair growled, and the disgust in his voice made Arthur cringe. Why did it always have to end this way? Arthur was instantly cornered the moment he returned home and Alistair began to berate him. "Can't you imagine that this move would be hard for the lad? Why couldn't you try to understand him more?" The auburn-haired boy's fiery temper shone through as he pounded the table with his fists.<p>

Owain and Liam and Shamus looked on silently. Alistair lashed out at Arthur often, whenever Arthur had done something to call forth his anger, and, though Owain often checked up on Arthur afterwards with a cuppa and some gentle admonishments, they never moved to stop Alistair as he tore into their younger brother with his words.

Arthur's fists clenched.

Alistair had been ranting at him this whole time on behalf of that _outsider._ And he couldn't take it any more. His anger and resentment and _sorrow_ bubbled from within him in the form of salty tears that he struggled to keep at bay.

"Well, brat? What do you have to say for yourself? What possible reason would you have to tear him down?" Alistair's disgust tore through Arthur's core, and his head snapped up. An image of flames licking at fine, perfect stitches flashed through his mind as he felt pity towards the ugly and awkward little cygnet, mocked by his brothers for being different, who would never grow into a beautiful swan and show them his worth.

"What about you?" Green eyes blazed with unshed tears as the blonde Brit glared at his older brother. "What excuse do you have?" Arthur's voice was raw with pain and choked sobs as he growled out his answer. Alistair's eyes widened. Arthur had never talked back to him before. "Why do you always tear into me with your words? Why do you look at me like I'm some repulsive thing not worthy of your attention? Why won't you ever say my name? I'm Arthur! Your brother! My name isn't brat! Why do you even side with some stranger over your own brother?" Arthur didn't hold in his tears anymore, and they streamed down his face freely as his hoarse accusations grew in power until he was screaming at his brother. His brother whom he _loved. Why couldn't he love me back? _"Can't you see why I can't stand him? That idiot? It's because you care more for him than you do for your own brother!" Arthur's defiance ended in heaving sobs as he sunk to the floor. His brothers all stared in astonishment.

When he finally calmed down, Arthur wiped away any errant tears and looked up into his brother's face. Alistair still gaped at him, as if he had never seen anything more shocking in his life than his younger brother sobbing on the floor.

"Alistair." The single name broke the silence that settled over the room. "Alistair. I wish I could storm away from here, screaming how much I _hate_ you." Alistair flinched at the word. "But I can't. Do you know why? It's because I've always loved you. Always admired you. Why can't you love me back?" Arthur shakily rose to his feet and turned away without another word.

As he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom, he heard a faint sound. He turned toward the noise and followed it, as if in a trance, and to his surprise, it brought him outside his cousin's door. The sound was music. Soft music strummed gently from an acoustic guitar, as a clear tenor voice sang gently along with it. Arthur crept closer to listen. Did Alfred have the radio on? He'd never heard this song before.

"_I can't stand to fly. _

_I'm not that naïve. _

_I'm just out to find a better part of me."_

Arthur crept closer and gasped as he peeked through the slightly ajar door. Alfred sat on his bed strumming a guitar and singing with his eyes closed. The look of pain on his face and the tremor in his voice caused Arthur's throat to hitch.

"_I'm more than a bird,_

_I'm more than a plane,_

_I'm more than some pretty face beside a train. _

_And it's not easy to be me."_

As Arthur tiptoed away from his cousin's room and toward his own, he couldn't banish that song from his mind, and as he lay his head upon his pillow, his thoughts turned to his cousin. What was Alfred hiding? Did he miss his home? Did Alfred feel as lonely as Arthur did? Could their similar feelings draw them together in understanding? He found no rest that night, mind plagued with bitter memories and a wavering tenor voice.

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><p><strong>Dang. I made Arthur really emo didn't I? I think it's rather in character for him though...<strong>

**The song is Superman by Five for Fighting, and it never ceases to make me cry.**

**Also, I have an extremely painful sore throat and a headache. (It even hurts to swallow and breathe! D:) So if you could kindly leave a review, I would be ever so happy and it would improve my condition greatly I'm sure. Please give me your thoughts!**

**Love you all who reviewed and faved and followed. It makes me so happy!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	7. A Surprise Invitation

**Hello! **

**Well, I'm highly disappointed that we didn't get the 6-12 inch snowstorm we were supposed to get. That really sucks. I was hoping for a day off. Furthermore, I'm in a state of turmoil due to what's going on in North Korea and Russia. I really don't want a WW3! **

**I do not own Hetalia. Though I may fantasize that I own Alfred, I do not. *sigh* **

**I want to thank kittyhawk09 and Phantom Ice for the amazing reviews last chapter. It's thanks to you guys that this chapter is so long! You really inspired me!**

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><p>Alfred was excited for school. He was looking forward to seeing Lovino again. Who knew he'd make friends so quickly? He rode the limo to school with his cousins, and was a little shocked by the tense atmosphere. Were they still wierded out about him running away yesterday? Needless to say, he was grateful when the limo rolled to a stop in front of the school and he climbed out, trying to ignore the stares of the snobby rich people around him who watched the commoner exit the car, followed by five well-dressed boys, whom they instantly recognized as the Kirklands.<p>

_Great. _Alfred grimaced. _More attention._

As Alfred tried to find his way to his first class of the day, Advanced Technology, he ignored the stares of the passing students. He had refused to change his style after yesterday, and was once more wearing baggy jeans, a t-shirt and his beloved bomber jacket. Giving in to their criticism and wearing fancy clothes would be _so _unheroic. Everything was practically the same as yesterday, as he introduced himself to his teacher, Mr. Zuse, and his class. He ignored the stares as he surveyed the classroom. There were much fewer students in this class than there were in the ones he'd had yesterday. The class was much more free-spirited as well, which he appreciated. He always worked better when he could be creative. As Mr. Zuse set them on advanced coding, Alfred allowed himself to be lost in the world of technology.

When he was younger, he'd never had much technology. They had a TV and a computer, but his parents were never able to afford anything more than that. However, when the nearby library hosted a free Technology for Beginners course, he instantly felt a connection. Matthew hailed him as a genius in terms of coding and troubleshooting, and when his parents found out about his gift, they were both excited and proud. They threw a party in his house: just his family and him, and he couldn't remember a time when he felt prouder.

Alfred was snapped from his reverie when he noticed a small Asian teen standing next to his computer watching his hands flying across the keyboard as he created intricate codes. The typing stopped.

"Uuuh… Hey." He eloquently greeted the boy. The boy's almond shaped eyes blinked at him emotionlessly.

"Hello." He bowed to Alfred. "I am Kiku Honda. Pardon my rudeness, but would you mind telling me who you are? I have never seen you before." He spoke precise English with a light accent. Japanese, Alfred noted. Not like he couldn't guess by Kiku's name.

"Hey, Kiku. Nice to meetcha! I'm Alfred F. Jones, hero extraordinaire!" Alfred grinned enthusiastically. Kiku looked a little taken aback by his behavior, but smiled nonetheless.

"Hello, Alfred-san. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." He bowed once more.

"The pleasure is mine." Alfred responded politely. Then changed his tone to informal once more. "But, seriously, you don't have to call me by any honorifics. Just Alfred is fine. Do you mind if I call you Kiku?"

The Japanese boy blinked. "If you say so, Alfred-kun. And yes, just Kiku is fine." Kiku settled himself into the chair next to Alfred. "If you do not mind my asking, where did you learn to code so well?"

"There was a class at a library near my house on technology. I learned a little there, and the rest from manuals and on my own. It's pretty cool!" Kiku nodded in affirmation.

"I, too, enjoy such things." He replied coolly, but there was an excited gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Alfred and Kiku spent the rest of the class talking and sharing coding and technology information. Kiku explained that his father was practically the head of advancing technology in Japan, and Alfred readily agreed that the Japanese were very advanced in that area. They barely noticed when the subject turned to more personal matters, and were excited to learn they had even more in common than their love of computers.

"Everyone always thinks I'm so geeky because of my love of comics, but who cares! They're just so cool!" Alfred enthused. It wasn't every day you found a fellow comic and video game lover!

"I agree." Kiku responded calmly, though the light blush of his cheeks and the slight upturn of his lips showed that he was secretly giddy with joy. "Otaku are not very highly regarded in Japan. Have you ever read manga, Alfred-kun?"

"Ummm… Those are Japanese comics, right? I read some of Mr. Yamamoto's - he's an old friend from New York- I read his historical manga. Didn't really catch on." Alfred replied.

"Please consider trying it once more," Kiku suggested. "Action manga is much more interesting. I have some I could lend you." He tried to not get his hopes up. He offered his manga to many, but nobody ever took him up on the offer.

"Definitely! I'll take you up on that, if you don't mind!" Alfred's excited response brought a smile to his face. He could already tell they would be great friends.

"_Arigatou, _Alfred-kun. Also, if you would not mind, would you please meet my friends? I am certain you would all get along well."

Alfred beamed. Who said rich people had to be snotty?

* * *

><p>After Social Studies, Alfred met Kiku outside the cafeteria. The small Asian had two other boys with him, one a tall blonde and the other a small and bubbly brunette. Even from a distance, he could see the strong bond they shared, as the tall blonde firmly reprimanded the brunette, who brushed off his words with a smile. Kiku stood by smiling and adding some gentle words of his own. These three had most likely known each other since childhood, which made it all the more special that Kiku would so willingly accept him and invited him to meet his friends. Alfred beamed at the three boys.<p>

Kiku bowed politely to Alfred and turned to introduce him to his friends. "This is Alfred Jones," he gestured to the tall American. "He just transferred here from New York, and we met in Advanced Technology class. He is a sophomore." A light of excitement entered Kiku's eyes. "And, I am going to lend him my manga." He then turned to Alfred. "These are my friends. We are all freshmen. This is Ludwig Beillshmidt." He gestured to the tall and broad blonde who wore a stern and no-nonsense face. Alfred studied him. Beillshmidt, huh? Could he be related to Gilbert? His clothing, though more conservative than Gilbert's flashy ensemble, was nonetheless classy. He wore a navy blue suit and matching shirt of a lighter color. With his hair slicked back and silver glasses perched on his straight nose and cold blue eyes, he looked every bit the serious academic student. The brunette, on the other hand, couldn't even wait to be introduced, and immediately pounced on Alfred and hugged him.

"Alfred~ How are you? I hope you are enjoying yourself at this school and making friends! I know we could definitely be friends, even though we are all freshmen and you are a sophomore! That doesn't matter, we can still have fun and play with each other! Do you like Pasta? Veee~ I love it!"

Alfred instantly knew who this was. His resemblence to Romulus and Lovino Vargas was clear, with his wavy brown hair and the random curl off to the side of his head and his thick Italian accent aside, his character was exactly like that of Romulus. However, what had been slightly creepy on the older man was cute and friendly on Feliciano.

"You're Feliciano Vargas, right?" Alfred's voice came a little muffled from under a pile of enthusiastic Italian. Feliciano quit his speech on the history of different kinds of pasta and blinked. Only then did Alfred realize that he'd kept his brown eyes closed the whole time. Ok…that was a little weird…

"You know my name?" Feliciano beamed, overjoyed, his large smile forcing his eyes to slits once more.

"Yeah, I met your grandpa and brother- ack!" Alfred jolted. "I was supposed to meet Lovino in the garden! Nice to meet ya guys, but I gotta run!" Alfred quickly nodded to the three boys and took off in the direction of the gardens. Feli stared. Lovino was actually spending time with someone?

"Yay! _Fratello _has a friend!" He enthused, grabbing onto Lugwig and Kiku and spinning them around. "This is great! Vee~ We have to celebrate with pasta!"

* * *

><p>Lovino waited in the garden. It wasn't because he wanted to meet Alfred. He waited in the same spot he had met Alfred yesterday. It's not like he was hoping the boy would come back to eat here and bump into him! He had packed extra pasta and tomatoes, after seeing the disgusting fatty burger the American had called 'delicious' yesterday. He wasn't intending on sharing, he was just extra hungry, dammit!<p>

Lovino sighed. He was so bored. He most certainly did _not _hope Alfred would come. Nope. No hoping from this little Italian here!

And he most certainly did _not_ smile when the tall blonde came into view, puffing from his jog.

Alfred brightened. "Hey Lovino! Good to see ya! I take it Antonio delivered my message! Tell him thanks for me, 'kay?"

Lovino stopped smiling. (Not that he was smiling in the first place, of course!) "No, Antonio didn't give me any message. You met him? Were those jerks he called friends there too?"

"Yeah, I asked him to pass on to you that I would meet you here. He didn't tell you? Hmm… Must have forgotten. Oh well, you're here!" Alfred preferred to not worry over such silly things, especially when it turned out alright anyway. "I did meet him and his friends. They were kinda rude, but they didn't seem too bad."

"Just you wait. I'm warning you! If you get on their bad side, you're in trouble! They have a lot of influence throughout the school, and they can make your life hell!"

"Meh, it's fine. Whatcha got there?" He observed the large container in Lovino's lap. The Italian scowled.

"It's my lunch! Am I not allowed to have lunch, dammit? Is it against the rules or something? You gonna call the cops or something? _Chigii!_"

"Whoa! Hey, calm down there, tiger!" Alfred waved his hands frantically. "It's not like I'm gonna eat it!"

The Italian shoved the container into his hands. "See if I care! If you're going to rob me of my food then at least tell me how it tastes, dammit!"

Alfred blinked, confused. "Ummm… So you don't want it?" Alfred opened the container and smiled in appreciation at the pasta within. It smelled awesome!

"W-well if you're going to beg, I guess I could spare some!" The blushing Italian glared.

Alfred smiled. Lovino was so easy to read. "Thanks, man! It smells great!" He twirled some spaghetti on a fork and placed it in his mouth. "And it tastes even better! You're a great cook!"

Lovino smiled at the compliment, though Alfred knew he would deny it. "At least it's better than your damn burgers!"

Alfred mock-glared. "Burgers are awesome. Don't diss."

Lovino snatched back his pasta and dished some out for himself and for Alfred. Soon the only sound was the contented sounds of muching, as the two boys sat in a comfortable silence.

Alfred, of course, broke it. "Oh, by the way, I met your brother! Kiku, my new friend introduced me to him and their German friend. Ludwig, is it? Is he related to Gilbert?"

"Yeah, he's his brother. There are two macho potato bastards."

"You don't like Ludwig, Lovino?" Alfred inquired. "He seemed cool to me!"

"Well, he's not as bad as his brother," Lovino allowed, "but he's still a potato sucking _bastardo_. He always hangs around my stupid little brother, and corrupts him!"

"Haha, Are you jealous?" Lovino glared as Alfred hit the nail on the head.

"Not at all!" Lovino glared, though his blush made him look much less menacing than he intended. "I just can't stand that kraut-breath!"

Alfred just laughed and nodded, though, by the slight smirk on his face, Lovino could tell that the blonde didn't really believe him.

"Oh, shut it, bastard." Lovino growled defensively. "The bell will ring soon, so lets get to class.

"Okay!" Alfred smiled cheerily, willing enough to let Lovino change the subject. He had music next with Mr. Brahm, and he was looking forward to it. Music had always been something he loved, and he and Matthew had a talent for it and had learned multiple instruments. When they had been younger, they had joked about starting a band, along with Juan Rodriguez, a friend of theirs who had taught them many guitar techniques. The Mexican had been fantastic on the guitar. _I wonder what happened to him_. Alfred wondered as he waved to Lovino and headed to his next class.

All students in Circle Academy were expected to take a class in The Arts. Alfred instantly chose Music. He wasn't very good at acting, and drawing… well, frankly, he sucked. And no way was anyone gonna get him in a pair of tights dancing up on stage!

As Alfred made his way to his locker to get his guitar and then to Johann Brahm's music class, he avoided the students wandering the halls and heading to their respective classes. Aside from the few connections he'd made so far, Alfred hadn't really conversed with many of the students. Their supercilious stares were new to him. He had always been accepted as an equal in the Bronx. Everyone was middle to low class. There was so much diversity, that you stopped really caring about ethnicity or social background, and, even though people from the same areas of the world liked to live in the same area in the Bronx, so as to keep their culture alive within themselves, they never really put so much stress on race as he had seen in the short amount of time that he was here. Could it have been because there, even though everyone accepted that they were all from different countries and cultures, they still considered themselves fully American and had that in common?

Alfred shrugged these thoughts away as he reached the classroom from which the distinctive sound of tuning emanated. If that was true, this school could do with a little Americanization. Alfred grinned at the thought of the horrified faces of his classmates if they heard such blasphemy. Alfred shifted his guitar case further onto his shoulder and opened the door.

* * *

><p>Johann Brahm was a serious man. Serious about music, and even more passionate about it. He loved to be a music teacher, as it opened for his students the door to another world, full of life and harmony, where everything was as it should be and each and every note, no matter how small, had a part in the masterpiece that was music. By showing his students this ideal world, he hoped it would play over to their lives in general. When he first saw Alfred F. Jones, his latest student, enter the room, his well-trained eye instantly saw someone who loved music. The boy paused in the doorway and breathed in deeply, eyes closed, as if tasting the different melodies resounding about the room as the members tuned their instruments. When he opened his eyes, they were peaceful and shone of happiness. But the strangest thing… his smile was so sad. Perhaps music was bittersweet to him. Johann smiled as he welcomed the boy into his room. This boy was definitely an interesting one, and a music lover was always accepted with open arms here.<p>

* * *

><p>When the mellow notes of the piano hit Alfred's ears, it was as if he was transported back in time, to when he was full of innocence and joy, Matthew laughing beside him and a young French-accented girl's voice scolding them to pay attention, because <em>Maman <em>would only teach this once! Alfred closed his eyes and breathed, as he took in all the sounds of the symphony around him clamoring for dominance, now the violins had it, next the piano, then the brassy sound of a trumpet broke through loud and clear. It was beautiful. It was nostalgic. He missed music.

Alfred opened his eyes to see his teacher welcoming him in with a smile. Johann Brahm was a tall, middle aged man with defined features. He had a kind, open face that instantly made Alfred feel at ease. He quickly accepted the proffered hand, introducing himself and taking his seat in one of the many chairs lined up. He kept the rush of emotions at bay as he surveyed the students around him. Music made everyone equal. Music showed your soul. It didn't matter if you were a renowned violinist on a Stradivarius or a lonely bar pianist lost and crushed by the weight of the world. A musician could always connect with a fellow musician, and Alfred knew when he looked around him that he was equal.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Please review!<strong>

**Can anyone guess who Mr. Zuse and Johann Brahm are?**

**Love Y'all!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	8. Battle Hymn

**Hello people!**

**Here's my next chapter! First I'll say that I don't want to make it seem that Alfred's good at everything, because he's not. However, it's not strange for people to have multiple musical talents. (I know a kid who can play probably 10 instruments prodigiously.) I chose piano and guitar as two of these instruments because they're popular and easy to learn. I chose harmonica and sax because they're emotionally stunning and seem like something America himself would learn because of his cowboy and jazzman days, so I carried it over to Alfred.**

**Also, you may have noticed that the chapter names are very dark. I don't know why I decided to take the plot of the chapter and make it as dark as possible for Alfred. Maybe so it would seem like he feels like he's in a war? IDK.**

**I do not own Hetalia. However, I hope to soon own a beautiful 1800s Harmonica I saw in an Antique store.**

* * *

><p>Mr. Brahm tapped his baton on his music stand, and instantly, the chaos ceased. Alfred was very impressed.<p>

"Students," he addressed the class, "Alfred F. Jones will be joining our class from today onward. Alfred," he continued turning to the boy next to him, "We call this music class, but it's really more of a student organization. We are basically the school's symphony. It's much larger than this, of course," he assured as Alfred glanced around and estimated about 30 students, "but we have to divide all the students into different classes, or it would be too much. This school is very student oriented, and encourages older students to tutor the younger ones, so if you need any help, I'm sure we can find someone for you. Now that that's all over with, please take a seat next to Mr. Lukasiewicz." He gestured to a blonde…errr…boy? "Feliks, please help get him settled in."

"Like, sure thing Mr. B! I'll totes help the newbie out!" Alfred looked a little dazed as he went to sit with the Polish violinist who apparently wasn't ashamed to wear a long, colorful skirt and bows in his shoulder-length blonde hair. And what was with how he talked? He sounded like a teenage girl! The boy flashed a beaming smile and a peace sign, showcasing his pink nail polish. "Like, hey kid! Can I call you Alfred? I'm totes digging your look. I call it 'sexy grungewear'. I mean, look at you. You're so tall! Though I'd like to see you in a suit. I totes want to take you shopping and give you a makeover. Can I do that? Oooh! And can Lizzie come? She's my friend, and she's fabulous. I'm sure you'd love her and she could give you great fashion advice. Though I really do like that casual look on you, it's missing something and she could help out. Do you use product in your hair or is it just amazing? I totes need your secret. My hair gets sooo dry, and it's awful! Hey do you want to-"

Mr. Brahm took pity on the gaping Alfred and cleared his throat, effectively cutting of Feliks' stream of words. Feliks could be a little…overwhelming when you first met him, but he was a good kid and very friendly. "Feliks, please give Alfred fashion advice on your own time. Right now, we are going to play music."

"Sure thing, Mr. B!" Feliks grinned. Alfred looked a little relieved and still extremely confused.

Mr. Brahm turned to Alfred. "Now to get an idea of what part you will play in our symphony, can you tell us what instruments you play? I'm guessing that you play guitar if the case is anything to go by."

Alfred nodded. "I guess guitar is what I'm best at. I play acoustic, and can do a lot of Spanish guitar stuff. I also play piano, though I'm sure you have better people for that. I play sax, but I don't actually have one, and I know some bongo stuff, but I wouldn't say I can actually _play _them.

Ummm… I also play harmonica. That's it."

Mr. Brahm blinked. "Well, that is enlightening. We have a few guitar players, though most of them don't do Spanish. Mr. Carriedo is the king of Spanish guitar here." Alfred nodded. He'd expected as much. Still, he'd like to see a duel between Antonio Carriedo and Juan Rodriguez. The world would probably explode from the awesomeness. "Still, we can definitely keep you in mind for that. Mr. Eidelstein," he gestured to a well dressed brunette, "is our main pianist. We haven't had any saxophone players since our last one graduated, but we do have the sax here if you want to show us some of your skill." Alfred nodded, and accepted the proffered instrument.

"I haven't played sax in a while, so I might be a little rusty," He explained as he examined the instument. Just what you'd expect of such a prestigious school: they cleaned all the instruments frequently, even if nobody was using them.

He lifted the sax to his lips and began to play. And it all came back.

He had met Louis playing at a street corner and stopped to watch. He was enthralled by the beautiful sound of the saxophone, and began drawing nearer and nearer, and before he knew it, was standing right in front of him. When Louis finished his song he smiled at the young boy in front of him and asked if he had any requests. "What's your favorite song?" came the reply, and Louis instantly lifted his sax to his lips and soulfully began the beautiful piece of music. Before he knew it, Alfred was joining in and singing with his clear childish voice to the song that everybody knew.

_I hear babies cry and I watch them grow._

_They'll learn much more than we'll ever know,_

_And I think to myself:_

'_What a wonderful world.'_

People of all types and walks of life stopped their rushing and watched the duo release the enthralling music into the world: the young boy's crystal notes complimenting the deep and mellow sound of the saxophone. When the last note rung out, there was a beat of silence before a loud applause erupted around them, and the two artists were jolted back into the world of the living. Louis had offered to teach Alfred the saxophone, and the ecstatic boy readily accepted. How could he not? Louis was a brilliant teacher, and he encouraged and praised Alfred in pursuing his interest in music. He had always told Alfred how talented he was. Alfred wondered what Louis was doing now. Probably playing on a street corner, just like he had so many years before.

Alfred didn't notice that his song had ended until Mr. Brahm cleared his throat. His eyes were slightly misty as he smiled at Alfred. "You're hired." He declared jokingly, and Alfred smiled. "We have many drummers already, but I don't think I've ever seen a harmonica in our symphony. What an addition! We could create some very interesting arrangements with that. Would you mind letting us hear some?"

"Ah, sure." Alfred was a little surprised at the request. He didn't expect to have his harmonica playing taken seriously. It was something he played when he felt the need to express himself and let his emotions run free, but he'd never actually performed for another person. What should he play? Shrugging to himself, He pulled his harmonica out of his pocket and began to compose a song. He rarely played written songs on his harmonica, but played whatever came to his mind and matched his mood. Composing songs was easy for him when he was emotional. He allowed himself to get lost in his music, remembering all the times he'd used his small blues harp to overcome the overwhelming sadness that washed over him in tsunami waves. It had been his constant companion through all the tough times. As the old cowboy who he'd bought the instrument from had said, eyes knowing, 'Keep your harmonica close, and it'll safely guide you through everything that happens in life.' Alfred silently thanked the man he'd never really known for that advice. Alfred ended the mournful melody and glanced at Mr. Brahm.

The class was totally still, as all eyes watched Alfred with slight awe. Never before had they heard something so soulful and painful, and there had been many musical prodigies in the school so far. It wasn't even that his playing had been so amazing that he was touched. It was the undercurrent of surging emotion behind every mournful note that made the piece truly beautiful. Mr. Brahm nodded to Alfred.

"I think I can use this." He told the young American. "It would make a great addition to our symphony. What do you think?" He asked turning to the class.

"Totes not a good idea, Mr. B!" The distinctive voice of Feliks piped up. "My makeup is totes running! I can't look fabulous when I'm a sobbing mess!" Alfred chuckled. Feliks grinned at him. The brunette sitting at the piano adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"I think he would make a fine addition to our symphony." He declared in a Germanic accented voice. Most of the students nodded in agreement.

"Then it's decided!" Mr. Brahm shook Alfred's hand. "Welcome to our symphony." Alfred grinned as he took a seat. Looks like he found a place where he belonged. Feliks flashed him a thumbs up and he laughed.

* * *

><p>Johann Brahm stared blankly out the window. No matter what he did, his thoughts kept returning to his young American student. Alfred F. Jones was remarkable. He played his saxophone and harmonica with such soul and beauty that it brought the music teacher and many of the students to tears. The boy was so involved in his music that it seemed like he shut the world out. The look of pain and heartbreak that appeared on his face when he played the terribly sad song on his harmonica was startling. How could such a young man play music so wrought with heartbreak, as could be played by a man who had seen more of life than he ever wanted?<p>

Yes, Alfred F. Jones was remarkable.

* * *

><p>Feliks chatted happily to Alfred as they made their way to their lockers after music class. Alfred listened and laughed along with Feliks' stories. The boy was strange, but his energy and enthusiasm brought out Alfred's own, and before he realized it, they'd made a connection.<p>

"Toris is, like, totes fabulous! He's been my best friend since forever, and we also hang out with two other friends of his. But they're all creeped on by Ivan, poor guys."

"Who's Ivan?" The American queried.

"He's totes creepy! He beats people up and forces them to become his underlings. He has no real friends, so he makes the students obey everything he says and gets super obsessive over them! He almost put me through the wall when he saw me talking to Toris once!"

"Sounds like you need a hero." Alfred grinned and flashed his perfect smile. "Duty calls!"

Feliks whimpered. He'd just met Alfred. He didn't want to see him buried yet!

* * *

><p><strong>I love<strong> **Feliks! He's such a cutie, and I always thought he and Alfred would make good friends. ****Funny thing is, I know a ton of polish people. (We live very near to The National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa, and all the priests are Polish, as are most of the parishoners and workers, and they always have people on pilgramage from Poland.) And yet I have only met three Polish people who haven't been grumpy and stony faced. An older woman who spoke very little English and her mother who spoke none are possibly the sweetest people I have ever known. I think the only words she knew were "God bless you" and she said them constantly. The third Polish lady is crazy flamboyant and owns an awesome fashion boutique.**

**Can you guess who Louis is?**

**I based the old cowboy idea off of my best friend's great uncle who is an authentic cowboy . He's amazing at the harmonica and he has probably twenty that he carries around with him in a case. I sang "The House of the Rising Sun" and he did the harmonica accompaniment for karaoke and it was awesome. Now I really want to play harmonica!**

**I can't really play any instruments, sadly. I took violin for years, but I wasn't very good. However, one of the colleges I'm looking at offers unlimited lessons for practically any instrument for only $80 a semester! So epic!**

**Please, Please, Please review! It would make me inponderably happy!**


	9. A Volley

**Happy St. Patrick's Day to all you out there with Irish in you! (And, lets be honest, who _doesn't _have Irish in them. I literally do not know a _single _person who doesn't have at least a little bit.) Anywho, I'm more Irish than anything else (except American), so Patty's day is a big deal for us. It's practically my Mommom's favorite day of the year, and so we had her and my Poppop over for an Irish dinner and we talked about classic radio mystery shows and watched Veggie Tales. It was pretty great. **

**Sooo... This is the snowiest winter we've ever had. I personally know Polish immigrants who have said that this is colder than what they experienced in Poland. _Colder. Than. Poland._**

**I have not acquired the rights to Hetalia. However, I did have a three year old tell me to "Get a romance already!" 0_O That's just sad.**

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><p>Raivis Galante trembled as he walked through the halls of the school, avoiding his classmates. The young Latvian had been called by Ivan, and when one was called by Ivan, he had to go. Raivis placed his books in his locker and turned to find Ivan standing behind him. The tiny boy shivered as he looked up at the huge and imposing Russian.<p>

Ivan smiled a childish and innocent smile, tilting his head so that his platinum hair framed his face. "You were coming to see me, _da_?" He 'patted' the smaller boy's head, pressing the teen down through his spine. "Why is it that you are so tiny, like little bean?"

"Uhm, that would be because you are always pushing on my spine, Ivan." No matter how many times the tall boy questioned him on his height, he always answered the same. Yet Ivan never stopped.

"Ah, are you thinking this is my fault? I am just showing affection to dear friend, _da_?" If possible, his tone became more innocent and sickly sweet.

"Ah, yes. It is your fault. If you were not so big, maybe I would not be so small." Raivis truthfully replied. Ivan's violet eyes flashed, but before he could do anything, a cry of "Raiviiiiiiissssss!" was heard, and Eduard Von Bock rushed toward them.

"Ah, Ivan, pay him no mind." The Estonian appeased the taller boy, standing in between the Russian and his prey. "He does not mean it. You know Raivis! And we have to get to class anyway, so please let him go this time."

Ivan surveyed the two boys. Eduard always seemed to show up at the wrong time. Whenever Ivan was going discipline Raivis for his rudeness, Eduard stopped him. Well, since they were such good friends, he would let them of this once. "Very well." He told the boy. Eduard's relieved smile dropped as Ivan continued. "But Raivis will have to come see me after school. We have things to be discussing, _da_?" Raivis quickly nodded, and Ivan turned away with one last smile. "_Do svidaniya.'_

Eduard turned to his smaller friend. "Why must you always make him angry? Now he wants to see you after school!"

"I only said the truth!" Raivis defended with tears in his eyes. The thought of meeting Ivan after school scared him.

"Well, We will just have to tell Toris. Perhaps he can persuade Ivan to not meet you. He seems to have a way with him. But for right now, we must get to class." Raivis nodded to his friend and they made their way to P.E.

* * *

><p>It had been a two days since Alfred promised Feliks that he would be a hero and save the boy's friends from the intimidating Russian who had the whole school under his control. Easier said than done. First, of course, he needed to find the boys, and he hadn't even seen Feliks since music class. As he made his way to P.E., he wondered if he would be able to uphold his promise. A hero never breaks his promise! That's what his dad had told him. But then again, why would he take that man's advice after what happened. Alfred scoffed. <em>You've got a lot to answer for, dad.<em>

As he entered the enormous gym, Alfred gaped. He had always been a very active person: it was rare to ever see him sitting when he could be running, and lifting heavy equipment in Grandpa Fred's mechanic's shop had given him a sturdy and strong build and plenty of hard muscles. He practically drooled at the sight of all the lifting equipment. There were also many tracks and courts for various sports advertised on the signs directing students to other floors or the outdoor fields.

Today, they would be playing indoor volleyball, and though Alfred wasn't particularly good at the game, any form of sports excited him. He wasn't a prodigy, sure, but with his height and build, not to mention his speed and stamina, he did very well in contact sports like football. _Not that they'd have football here._ He groused. _Maybe I could try rugby! That's kinda similar, and even more intense!_ Cheered by the thought, he continued on to the volleyball court.

Alfred was overjoyed when he entered the volleyball room to see Feliks in a corner chatting with a boy with chin length brown hair. He caught Feliks' attention and the boy cheered and waved him over.

"Toris! Look! It's Alfred! I told you about him. Doesn't he look totes great? And he's just wearing ugly sweatpants and a t-shirt!" Alfred had changed from his jeans into a pair of sweatpants to allow more activity. Most students wore tracksuits to gym class, though they weren't as flashy as Feliks' pink sparkly one. "He's so fabulous, I'm jealous! Even poor little Feliks, as adorable as I am, couldn't look so great in such ugly clothes. Wouldn't he be fab in one of the festival dresses from my home place?" The brunette gave Alfred's horrified face a reassuring smile.

"Don't mind him." He comforted the boy. "He has always been like this, ever since we were kids. His mother and my father became friends at this school years ago and now have a fashion design business together, so I have known him since we were very young. I am Toris Laurinaitis, by the way. I am from Lithuania. It is a pleasure to meet you, Alfred. Feliks has been talking about you for some time. So you intend to save us from Ivan, do you? The last person who tried to interfere ended up in a hospital for 6 months. I would hate to see it happen again."

"Yeah, but that guy wasn't as tall or cool looking as Alfie here! And he couldn't rock ratty jeans like our little American can! Seriously, Alfred! You gotta let me show you to Liz! She loves dressing up pretty boys!"

Alfred frowned lightly. "I'm not pretty. I'm manly! I can't be a hero if I'm a pretty boy! Was Captain America a pretty boy? Was Thor a pretty boy? Was Iron Man a pretty boy? Was Spiderma- err.. well, maybe he was, but I'm not!"

"I call it as I see it, hon." Feliks digressed, snapping a bubble with his gum. Alfred didn't have a chance to retort before Miss Torres, the volleyball coach divided them into teams and set them playing volleyball. Alfred soon lost himself in playing. He loved sports, and the feeling of competing always got him excited. The opposing team was equally on footing with his. Alfred grinned at Feliks as the little Polish boy made another great serve. He had a mean serve! Alfred jumped and slammed the ball across the net and to the floor. The ball hit the floor with a resounding _thwack _and the opposing team instantly hit it back over the net. The game was very fast paced, and Alfred played as well as he could, and felt no loss when the other team reached the required 25 points on point ahead of his own team.

Beaming at Toris, who had been a tough opponent during the game, Alfred and the rest of his team shook hands with their classmates. "That was totally fun!" He cheered.

"You're not bad at Volleyball, Alfie? Did you play back at home?" Feliks questioned him.

"Nah, never really got into it. I played beach volleyball for fun though. It's much harder to run on the sand than on the court! I've always been better at football, American football that is, and baseball. My bro-" Alfred cut himself off. A hollow feeling struck his heart as the memories of times playing sports with his brother assaulted him. He had been trying so hard not to think of Mattie since he came here so that he wouldn't mention him to anyone, and he'd mostly succeeded until now. "My brother," He continued in a quieter voice, "and I always played ice hockey together. He couldn't hurt a fly off the rink, but when he was in his gear and holding his hockey stick, he was a demon. He probably beat me 70% of the time, nasty little bugger!" Matthew had been a fantastic hockey player. He could have been a pro, but whenever he saw the damage he had done to his opponents on the rink, he felt awful and locked himself in his room until Alfred calmed him down. He was just too nice. Alfred smiled sadly at the memory. If only Mattie could be with him right now.

Toris looked like he wanted to say something, but abstained and settled for smiling instead.

"So, you wanna meet Raivis and Eduard? Raivis is pretty tiny and totes adorbs, and Eduard is a little preppy, but cool and smart! I'll bet you'd like them!"

Alfred chuckled at Feliks' question. As if his opinions of the two boys would matter on their fashion choices!

They found the boys in the acrobatic section of the gym performing on the rings. Alfred watching in awe as the taller boy held the rings with his feet and swung the smaller boy, clinging to his ankles, to the next set of rings. They performed intricate feats in the air and Alfred watched with eyes wide the whole time.

"Are they amazing, or what?" Toris smiled to see Alfred's awed face. "They have been partnered up since they were very young, and have won quite a few awards for their acrobatics, both in pairs and singles. They want to represent their countries in the next Olympics, but we all tell them they could do better."

"It's pretty admirable of them to want to represent their own countries anyway. That's how the Olympics should be done." Alfred replied. It never made sense to him why one wouldn't want to win for his own country. What an honor!

When their session was over, Toris called them over, and when the introductions had been completed, Eduard told them of what had happened earlier and asked Toris to intercede for them and convince Ivan to let Raivis off the hook.

"You know he doesn't listen very well to us, Toris, but he sometimes listens to you. Maybe you could put in a good word for us?" Eduard glanced at the Latvian, who at the mention of his aggressor's name, began trembling anew.

"Ivan is complicated, Eduard. He is really not so bad, if you know how to work around him." Toris smiled gently.

"I don't want to know how to work around him, Toris. I want to know how to get him away!"

"Which is why he will always return." Toris replied seriously.

A tense silence reigned among the group, only broken when Alfred coughed. "Sooo.. I'd better go, then. Seeya 'round."

"Bye bye, Alfie! We should all, like, totes hang out together some time!" Feliks beamed. He turned to his friends. "Alfie could protect us. Plus, we could always do with more fabulous!" Eduard blinked at Feliks' strange way of inviting Alfred to be their friend, but shrugged it off and agreed amiably. The American had a bit of a reputation running around the school for being an obnoxious idiot and dressing in a disrespectful and slovenly manner, but he was pleased to note that Alfred seemed a respectable and enjoyable person to spend time with. He had also heard, in much smaller circles, of the beautiful music that the blonde had played in music class that had almost brought Mr. Brahm to tears, and now he wondered how much of that could be true. With a wave, the five boys parted ways and walked to their respective lockers to pack up for the day.

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><p>"Isn't this interesting." A silky voice purred. "It seems as though we will not have to push him to get on Ivan's bad side, <em>mes amis<em>. He is going there naturally."

"Makes work easier for us, _ja_?" Red eyes flashed. "It's about time someone tipped off our dear Ivan that someone is tying to steal his friends."

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><p><strong>So, in a desperate attempt to save myself from throwing up (I have emetaphobia), I swore to God that I would stop watching anime and reading FanFiction and manga for a whole week if He took away my sickness... soo... I'm kinda stuck. Though I guess I'll have time to do stuff I always ditch for anime... I will be strong! <strong>**I can do this! I WILL do this! Because. I. AM...uhh.. idk. That kinda burned out.**

**So Alfie's gonna play rugby. Because it's boss. My bro plays rugby, and I only went to one game and fell in love. No protection. No fouls for stepping on someone's toes. Just pure, hard guts and playing until your teeth are knocked out. It's beautiful. Seriously, in that one game, there was a concussion, knocked out teeth, a broken rib or two, a busted arm ect. Even my dad, who was watching from the sidelines, was injured when a kid came bowling out of bounds, head aiming for the tailpipe of a car. My dad jumped in the way and broke his kneecap. Pretty heroic. Though he wasn't pleased about having to wear a full on leg brace for months. **

**Also, guys, would you like me to write this length of chapter and release every Monday or a double length of chapter and release every other Monday? Please tell me.**

**Please leave a review! Thank you to thosewho reviewed last week! Reviews really inspire me to write more!**

**8i8**

**~spa****rklybutterfly42**

**P.S. I saw a sign for North American made furniture, and it had a flag thet was half Canada, half America. My first thought was, "They're AmeCan shippers? EEEW! Incest!" Lol. Hetalia, you broke me. **


	10. The Demon Within

**WOW! I can't believe it's aleady the 10th chapter! And the plot is barely going! Wow, this is gonna be a long story. I got six reviews for last chapter. SIX! Thank you guys so much! I especially want to thank Phantom Ice for the lovely and long reviews! They really inspire me! This reviewer has also inspired me to write more than I had planned for Ivan and Alfred's mini cold war, so thank her if you like that.**

**This chapter is longer than usual. Don't ask why. Just enjoy.**

**Probably no-one can relate, but today I got an update on the manga Kuroko no Basuke, which I adore. And in this chapter, there was a popularity poll. And my beloved Kuroko got SECOND! THE MAIN CHARACTER GOT SECOND! AND TO AKASHI, THE EVIL JERK-FACE! I am not pleased.**

**Anyway, I don't own Hetalia. I kinda own Carlos, but not really. He's Cuba.**

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><p>When Alfred arrived at the Kirkland manor after school on Friday, he found it in a flurry of activity, with maids and cleaning ladies running hither and thither, dusting, mopping, washing windows and arranging flowers. In the center of it all, Charles Kirkland was discussing plans and details with the head butler. He noticed Alfred standing in the entrance way and beckoned him over.<p>

"What's going on, Uncle Charlie?" The boy asked.

"Your Aunt Margaret is returning sooner than expected, so we're in a bit of a rush to have all preparations completed. She should be here tonight at 9:00, so as you can see, we have much to do." His uncle replied. The man looked rather frazzled." I have already sent the boys to their rooms, so they would stay out of the way until preparations are complete and so that they could prepare and get dressed. You may want to do the same. This is the first time my wife will be meeting you, after all."

Alfred agreed that this was probably a good idea, and retired to his room to shower and get some homework done. Since this was the first week back, there really wasn't that much, but it would be something to keep him busy. When that had all been completed, he pulled out his guitar and began strumming to stimulate his thoughts. He had a lot to think about.

The first week of Circle academy had been a little rough, that's for sure, but he had made some friends: Lovino, Kiku, Feliks and the others seemed really nice, and he was sure they could get along, but Lovino's warning of the Bad Touch Trio rang in his head, and he wondered how much he should heed his warning. He didn't like to judge people before getting to know them first, even if he received a strong opinion from someone he trusted. However, there was something about them that just made him nervous. And now there was Ivan to worry about. He had promised Feliks, Toris, Raivis and Eduard that he would help them, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't even a little nervous. Toris had pulled him aside and explained Ivan to him in full detail.

Toris had informed him that Ivan was extremely possessive of anyone he decided was his friend. He had gone so far as to break bones of those who tried to separate the Russian from his 'little friends', and he was practically in control of the whole school. Everyone feared him, except for the Bad Touch Trio, who were on an equal level with him, where control over the student body was concerned. Though, of course, they didn't stoop to beating up the students. They had much more devious ways of showing their power.

Toris seemed to be the only thing Ivan had that was close to an actual friend. Ivan treated him better than the others, and even listened to what he had to say sometimes. When Alfred asked why, Toris had looked at him with a sad smile.

"I pity him." He'd said. "Ivan is like a child trapped in a young man's body. He has never truly had a friend, and he grew so lonely that he decided to force others to be his friends. He is so sad and lost. I can not leave him." Alfred had just stared at him, not really comprehending what Toris was trying to say.

"Alfred. Sometimes bullies bully others because they are trying to fill in a hole in their hearts. You say that you will be the hero, but a hero must be unbiased. You have offered to save us from Ivan, but will you save Ivan from himself?"

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><p>"Mattie," Alfred growled in a low voice, "tell me who did this to you."<p>

Matthew flinched at his brother's dangerous tone. It was hard to get his brother angry, but Alfred was extremely protective of his family. Seeing his brother in such pain with a black eye, bruised jaw and cracked ribs among other minor injuries set Alfred's blood boiling, and Matthew pitied the person on whom his wrath would fall. And no way was he going to tell his older twin that the reason Carlos beat him up was because of his grudge against Alfred! Alfred would flip his lid.

"Please, Al, don't freak out! You do crazy stuff when you're angry! He didn't mean it. It was just a misunderstanding!" Matthew pleaded in vain against his brother. Alfred was out for blood and he would get it, one way or another.

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><p>Carlos Muchado was one of the biggest and strongest kids in the seventh grade. He picked on the younger kids and older kids alike, and rarely had any opposition. Alfred, however, with his stupid, meddling hero complex, made it his personal mission to stop the large Cuban's villainous actions. Alfred was strong and determined and had a multitude of supporters, so Carlos hated him. But what could he do? He would probably be beaten by Alfred, and he didn't like that idea. So he struck upon inspiration. To get back at Alfred, all he had to do was hurt his brother.<p>

Carlos had been friends with Matthew a while ago, but when Matthew had sided with Alfred and shyly warned him that bullying was wrong, Carlos felt betrayed. He was another one of _them_. Those jerks who pretended to be his friends, but always left him in the end. He was cut of the same cloth as Carlos' own father, who had abandoned his wife and five children in Cuba and ran off with another woman. Nobody ever stayed, and now Carlos was the man of the family, without any example of what a man should be. All he could feel was rage and betrayal at Matthew's words.

Carlos began to attack Matthew at random, never leaving more that a bruise or two in inconspicuous places. Alfred never caught on, and Matthew didn't want his brother to fight for him. He could deal with this by himself. It was only after a rough night of holding his weeping mother in his arms that Carlos snapped. Matthew, noticing his once-friend was in a bad mood, invited him to join his family for dinner. Carlos could only see red as he was reminded of the family he could have had but which had abandoned him. He fell upon Matthew, beating him and screaming until his throat was raw, pouring all his hatred of his father into his fists as Matthew tried desperately to dodge. When he was finished, Carlos ran away, leaving a bloodied and unconscious Matthew lying behind the school.

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><p>When Alfred saw that his brother had not shown up for class, he began to look for him, and panicked when he saw his twin lying in such a state behind the school. He immediately took him home, and after patching him up, interrogated him on who did such a thing. Alfred was livid and though he knew Matthew wouldn't tell him who had hurt him, he could guess.<p>

"It was Carlos, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" He demanded when Matthew looked up with startled, pleading eyes. "I'm gonna kill him."

Matthew grabbed his arm. "Please, Al. Calm down! Carlos has been through a lot. We can help him!"

"And where did trying to help him get you? Huh?" Alfred growled. "I will never put up with someone hurting my brother. You stay here, Mattie. I'll deal with this."

Matthew's protests were cut off by the slam of a door.

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><p>Alfred was broken from his musings when he heard a knock on his door. Putting aside his guitar, he walked across his plush carpet and answered his door. It was Owain.<p>

"Hello, Alfred. May I come in?" the older boy asked his cousin. "I heard you playing guitar and I wondered if there was something on your mind." He laughed when Alfred gave him a surprised look. "I do the same thing when I think, except with my harp."

Alfred welcomed his cousin into his room, and gestured to his bed, where he and Owain settled themselves. There was a moment of silence while Alfred tried to put his feelings into words and Owain waited patiently.

"Have you ever done something that you regret, but you're not sure if you should?" Alfred began at last. Owain paused for a moment and then nodded, his eyes slightly guilty. "Well, back at my home, there was a kid named Carlos who bullied everyone. One day, he hurt someone important to me really badly, and I guess I just snapped. I beat him up and I kept screaming really nasty things to him. I always felt a little guilty for how I treated him, but I was defending his victims, so it was the right thing to do, right?"

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><p>Alfred stormed back into the school, fury evident on his face. The sea of students parted at the sight of the friendly and always enthusiastic blonde so livid. He marched straight to Carlos, who was fiddling with his locker and without any preamble, slammed a fist in his face.<p>

Carlos bit back curses as he tried to stem the blood flowing from his nose. He didn't have any time to retaliate before Alfred lifted him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against his locker with all his force. "Jones! What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, angry eyes clouded with pain. This kid was strong!

"No, Carlos, the question is what do _you_ think you're doing? You _dare_ attack my brother and think you'll get away with it? Not on my watch!" He slammed his fist in the larger boy's gut, fully aware of the gaping students. Alfred had snapped. "He wanted to help you, and this is how you repay him? He's possibly the only person in the world who doesn't hate you and this is how you treat him?" Alfred seethed.

"Heh. That's where you're wrong," Carlos sneered. "I have followers of my own. Don't think you're the only popular one."

"And where are they now, huh, Carlos? Do you see anyone stepping up to help you?" Carlos scanned the crowd for any of the boys who followed him around. He almost flinched when he saw heads turn away from his gaze.

"Well look at that." Alfred drawled. "Even your lackeys won't help you. You wanna know why? It's because they hate you. They just stick with you so you won't beat them like you did my brother." Alfred released Carlos after slamming him against his locker once more. "Everyone will leave you, Carlos. Nobody cares if you live or die." And as Carlos watched the American turn and leave and the students move on with their lives, muttering about what they had just seen and sending fearful glances at the retreating back and the heavily breathing boy. He wondered if that last sentence had really been uttered by Alfred F. Jones or if it was his own mind supplying him with the answer he'd been looking for all along.

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><p>Owain glanced at his cousin who gazed at him with confusion marring his face. If only Arthur would turn to him for advice like Alfred found it so easy to do. Not that he'd ever done anything to deserve it.<p>

"I suppose," He began, "that you actually know the answer to that question yourself. It seems to me that you did your best to protect the ones you love, but at the expense of another's happiness. Is this a 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' situation? Who knows. I've heard that you want to be the hero, and a hero would never hurt another like that." He saw Alfred's face fall, and felt a stab of guilt. "But don't worry. Perhaps what you said to him was necessary, and he was able to change because of it. Just be more careful in the future and learn from this."

Alfred sighed. "That's the second part of my problem. I have another bully on my hands now, and I don't want to do the same to him. I now know how much words can really hurt. I don't want to fail to save anyone anymore. Maybe Ivan is lost, and I could help him, but I'm scared that I'll mess up like I did with Carlos!"

"Ivan? As in Ivan Braginsky?" Owain glanced at him with worry. Ivan even had a reputation that made its way to the university sector of the school. He was dangerous. "I hope you can figure out what to do, Alfred, because he'd a dangerous one. Just remember this: You never know what's going on inside someone. Even the cruelest person has something precious to him, and bullies always bully for a reason."

Alfred nodded thoughtfully, then beamed at his older cousin. "Thanks a ton, Owain. You're the best!" Owain smiled and ruffled the hair of the younger boy, who he'd come to think of as a brother.

"Any time, Alfred. And maybe I can play music with you some time."

"Sure!" Alfred cheered. "That'd be fun!"

Outside the door, standing in the shadow and gazing with longing at the picture of fraternal love, Arthur let two tears run down his cheeks as he turned away.

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><p><strong>Dang.<strong> **Artie's so angsty. **

**M'kay. So, true story about being so protective you'd beat someone up. When I was probably 7 years old, I was at a party, and my older brother (whom I worshipped) got into a fight with another kid. The kid hit him in the face really badly and he started gushing blood from his nose an mouth. He ran in to get cleaned up and I watched as he spat blood into the bathroom sink. I went back out and saw the boy gloating over his victory, and without preamble, I picked up a massive hockey stick and flattened him. I, an undersized seven year old, was powered by the rage of protectiveness and decked an older boy. Suffice to say, he went home and was never heard from again.**

**Ad then there was the time when I was 5, and my best friend, who was also my neighbor, called my brother a b*tch. I refused to even look at her for five days, until she finally gave in and apologized. In fact the only grudge I can hold for more than 30 seconds is someone else's grudge.**

**And...Now I scared everyone off. Sorry. Just leave my family alone, and you'll be fine!**

**Now I must hibernate. It's gonna snow. Again. What a surprise.**

**Please leave a review!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	11. Shadowed by Ninja

**Sorry this one's so late. I babysat a friend of the family's foster kids. It's always an eye-opening and sad experience. There's so much bad in the world.**

**On that happy note: Here's chapter 11! It's super long as a thanks for your support.**

**I don't own Hetalia. However, I do own a complete collection of John Wayne movies. The cowboy qote Peter thinks of is one of them.**

**Care to guess which British stateswoman Aunt Meg is based on?**

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><p>After Owain left, Alfred pulled out his most formal outfit: a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. Hopefully Aunt Meg wouldn't be offended that he didn't have anything fancy to wear. Didn't they also mention that their youngest brother was with her? Peter, was it? Alfred wondered what he was like and how old he was. He wondered what Arthur's relationship with his little brother was like, as a pang of sorrow coming to him when he remembered his own younger brother. Though they were twins, Alfred, who was born seven minutes earlier, took his role as the older twin very seriously and coddled Matthew. He chuckled to himself as he remembered Matthew's halfhearted protests that he wasn't a baby and could take are of himself.<p>

As Alfred finished dressing, a flash of gold was visible in the form of a necklace hanging around his neck. It was a Star of David, and was the burden he had offered to bear when Grandpa Fred gave it to him. He sighed sadly. Out of all the people he left behind, he probably missed Grandpa Fred the most. The old engineer had taught him a lot, and he only wished he could have taken him up on his offer of a home after his family died. However, Uncle Charlie really wanted to take in the last memento of his sister, and family claims always came first.

Alfred sighed as he cleaned off his glasses and perched them on his nose, examining himself in the mirror. He looked dingy, even in his nicest clothes, and he needed a haircut. His hair was getting a little long, while that one annoying piece of hair sprang up, no matter how he tried to smooth it down. Alfred sighed. _Let's get this over with._

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><p>Margaret Kirkland found it difficult to control the bouncing sailor suit clad twelve year old next to her. Peter was excited to return home, that was certain. Though she had originally intended to go on her tour of Europe, meeting with diplomats and politicians, alone, Charles had suggested that she bring Peter with her, as she had brought her other sons on such trips in the past, especially Arthur, for whom she had a soft spot. Peter, of course, had been ecstatic at the thought of traveling Europe, but there's only so much traveling a twelve-year-old boy can do before he gets homesick, and Peter did. He was excited to see his father and brothers again, and even more excited to start his seventh grade school year at Circle Academy's middle school and brag to his friends about his vacation.<p>

But what he was most excited about, what made him bounce in his seat, was that he would be meeting his new brother today, and he couldn't help making up an amazing picture of him. He was American, right? So he would have longish brown hair, a cowboy hat, chaps and boots and be chewing on a toothpick. When he talked, he would draw out his words and say cool phrases like, "Get down off them horses: I don't favor lookin' up to the likes of you." Peter paused. No, that wasn't right. Alfred was from New York, not Texas. So he would definitely be a gangster! One with black dreadlocks and a dirty old wife-beater and cargo pants. He'd say cool words like "swag" and "Home-skillet" and be a total boss- or- even better, he'd be from the American mafia! He could wear a fedora and a black pinstripe suit with a blood red rose in his lapel. Maybe he'd have one of those really obvious New York Italian accents, like the Mafiosi did in The Godfather. His name was even Al! That's a pretty cool name, like Al Capone, or something. His musings were cut short when the limo turned into their long and winding driveway. He was finally home!

Margaret sighed in relief. She didn't think the limo would have held together if Peter had bounced around in it for one minute more. As butlers rushed out to unpack their luggage, she and Peter walked into their residence to find her husband and sons waiting for them, along with a tall blue-eyed blonde she could only assume was Alfred. The boy stood slightly apart form the rest of the men, looking a little nervous, and her mothering instincts took over. After she kissed her husband and each of her boys, she enveloped the tall American into her arms in an hug. The boy stiffened for a moment, then relaxed.

"Welcome to our family, Alfred." She smiled at him. Alfred returned her smile, but there was something distinctly sad about his eyes. But how couldn't there be? Charles didn't want to share such personal information with his children, but he did tell his wife that the reason they were adopting Alfred was because first his father and a year later, his mother, had both died under suspicious circumstances. How could he not feel saddened when family was mentioned?

Peter, after enthusiastically greeting his father and brothers, calmed down considerably and was now studying his cousin. He was tall, which was good. His hair was blonde and his eyes blue, just like Peter's own, though he noted with jealousy that the older boy had much thinner eyebrows. Dang. He didn't have dreads, nor was he wearing cowboy gear or sporting a fedora, which was disappointing, but maybe he was undercover or something? He stepped closer, eyes narrowed, and stared Alfred in the face. The boy blinked at the close proximity and seemed to feel a little awkward at being scrutinized by a twelve year old.

"Um, hey." He stuttered, surprised by the sudden quiet as the other members of the family watched the exchange with interest and amusement.

"Where's your fedora." The boy in the sailor suit demanded.

"I don't have one." Alfred replied. "Not my style."

"What's your style, then?" The boy narrowed his eyes and drew his thick eyebrows down.

"A cape and mask." He promptly replied. "Something really cool and mysterious, like batman! Though Captain America was always my favorite. He's pretty epic, but batman's all like 'I'm batman,'" He imitated batman's deep gravelly voice, "and he's got cool gadgets, and his butler's name is Alfred, which is such a weird coincidence-" he broke off when he saw the skeptical look the twelve year old was giving him. Seriously? He was being looked down on by a little kid?

"So, like a superhero?" Peter looked him up and down, sizing him up.

"That's right!" Alfred enthused. "I'm the hero!" He struck a 'cool' pose with his thumbs up out at arms length and flashed a brilliant smile.

There was a beat of silence as Peter gaped at him, and then it was broken when he cheered. "Yes! A hero! That's so cool! You have to show me how to be a hero, too." He begged. "I could be your ward! Like Robin was to Batman! We could be the ultimate tag team!"

Alfred beamed at the younger boy. He was gonna like this kid.

Charles and Margaret laughed as they left the room to have some time alone, while the twins laughed and joked about Peter finding someone on his same maturity level to play with, which made Alfred pout and Peter jump up to defend his new idol. Owain laughed, and even Allistor's lips twitched in amusement. The only one who wasn't smiling was Arthur, who, after greeting his mother, retreated to his room. He didn't want to spend more time with that jerk who stole his family that he absolutely had to.

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><p>Alfred awoke late on Saturday morning and groggily trudged down the stairs. He had spent practically all night in Peter's room playing various video games or in his own room reading his huge collection of superhero comics with his younger cousin. Peter and Alfred had had an instant connection, and it was easy for him to laugh and talk with the younger boy. Time flew, and they hadn't noticed that it was 3am, until Alfred glanced at the clock and ushered Peter off to bed. Now here he was waking up at 11:00 and trying not to fall asleep on his cereal.<p>

After a shower and a fresh set of clothes, he was much more awake, and decided to go out. He looked outside and was surprised to see that it wasn't very cloudy. Maybe he could go sightseeing? He hadn't really done much of that yet. Having decided, Alfred went off to find his aunt or uncle and tell one or the other of his plans. He found the former in the kitchen baking scones. He watched in surprise for a little while as she expertly mixed ingredients.

"Is there something I can do for you, Alfred?" she asked, turning around.

"Ah. Hey, Aunt Meg." She smiled at his name for her. "Could I go out for a bit? I want to explore a bit, and see some sights." She looked a little surprised.

"I would have assumed you'd seen everything already. I don't mind, of course, but be careful. Don't go following anyone who offers you ice cream or anything." She giggled as Alfred's ears turned pink with blush. "I would feel more comfortable if one of the boys went with you. Allistor and Owain are with their father having tea with the Queen at the moment, but perhaps Liam, Shamus, Arthur or Peter could help."

"Thanks, Aunt Meg, but that isn't necessary. I don't want to bother any of them, and Peter needs to catch up on the sleep we missed last night. Plus, you forget that I lived in the Bronx. I know how to handle myself."

Margaret reluctantly nodded. Then she left the room to return a moment later with a package. It was a cell phone. "Your Uncle told me you didn't have one, so I picked it up. If anything happens, please call." Alfred thanked her for the gift and hugged her. He'd never had a cell phone before, so it was exciting. With a cheerful goodbye, he threw on his bomber jacket and exited the house. By the time he reached the end of the driveway, he was already a little out of breath. _I must be really out of shape!_ He reprimanded himself and headed off toward a shopping center nearby. He'd always liked looking at the displays in shop windows, and even though he didn't have the money for such high-end things, he liked to imagine.

It was only after walking aimlessly down the street for ten minutes that he realized he was being followed. He had been noticing two people in particular that stopped every time he did, but now that he got a good look at them, he realized how truly suspicious they were. The two figures were smaller than he, one a blonde and the other a brunette. The blonde wore a sparkly tight black bodysuit and velvety cape, with sunglasses and a shimmery black fedora. The other had brown hair tucked under a black cap and a black scarf covering his or her face. A black track suit and black sunglasses completed the look. Did these people think they were being stealthy? Alfred glanced around and saw all the passers by giving the duo strange looks.

Alfred moved on to the next store window and watch the two black-clad people do the same. As he saw them stop at the store behind him, he quickly turned and strode toward them. The pair jumped in surprise and made various flustered gestures and escape attempts.

"Are you following me or something?" He demanded. "Your undercover clothes are really conspicuous."

"Us? Are you talking to us?" the brunette replied in a clearly false tone of voice.

"Like, you totes have to pop that head full of hot air. Geez, like, the world totes doesn't revolve around you. So not fabulous." The blonde remarked.

"Feliks." Alfred glanced at the blonde with a deadpan expression.

"Whoa! Fabulous and smart! How did you recognize us?" The blonde whipped off his glasses and stared at Alfred with shining green eyes.

"It comes with my hero powers." Alfred replied sarcastically, but he couldn't help but smile. Feliks was just too strange. The second person also removed her sunglasses and hat, revealing laughing green eyes and long brown hair. The girl was beautiful and about Alfred's age.

"Ok, intro," Feliks stated. "Lizze: Alfie. Alfie: Lizzie. There, done."

"I'm Elizaveta Hedervary." The girl introduced herself in a lilting accent. "And you must be the hero, Alfred F. Jones, that my friend has told me so much about."

"Liz is my totes fabulous Hungarian friend, and we go shopping together all the time. I just had to tell her about you. Such an opportunity for improvement is something artists like Liz and I can't pass up!"

"You're right, Feliks! He's gorgeous!" Elizaveta was slowly walking around Alfred, inspecting him. "His legs are so long and his shoulders are broad. Can't you just imagine him in a suit?" She giggled at Alfred's blush. This was so awkward!

"Totes what I said, Lizzy!" Feliks beamed, glad to see that he was on her side. "Aren't you just _dying _to dress him up?"

"So you stalked me because you wanted to dress me up?" Alfred blinked confusedly.

"What other reason?" Feliks replied in a degrading tone. Seriously. What's more important than fashion?

Alfred sighed. It's not like he had anything better to do, and Feliks was fun to hang out with. "Well, okay." He mumbled half-heartedly.

"Good, because I would have kidnapped you if you said no." Feliks nonchalantly inspected his sparkly fingernails. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Whatever ya say, dude. Hey, can I call my aunt? She'd probably want to know where I'll be."

"Ok. Tell her you will be fashionably late for dinner."

After Alfred put in the call to his Aunt, who was amused by his current situation, he turned to his kidnappers. "So," he addressed them, "where do you wanna go?"

* * *

><p>In hindsight, Alfred realized that that was not a very good question to ask a shopoholic. He got towed up and down the busy street, dragged in and out of various stores, and tried on hundreds of outfits of all different styles and types. Elizaveta and Feliks had even somehow managed to convince him to try on a frilly lace wedding dress(what were they doing in a bridal shop anyway?) and he always had the sneaking suspicion that Liz was taking pictures of all the outfits he tried on, but whenever he heard the click and saw the flash, no matter how quickly he turned, she was always calmly occupied with something else. She was like a <em>ninja<em>!

By the time they stopped at 3:00 for a snack, Alfred was worn out. Still, Feliks and Elizaveta continued to plot and plan which stores they still needed to go to, and which was the best and most efficient route to take. Alfred munched on his burger melodramatically. Such shopping trips took all the joy out of eating junk food.

"M'kay. So, hun," Feliks addressed Alfred, "Here's the plan. We hit these stores," he gestured to a map he'd drawn, "then cross over to here and go to this store. This is an absolute must."

"Felix?" Alfred read the name written on the sketch of the building.

"His mom is a pretty famous designer after all. She named the brand line after her son, because she felt so blessed when she heard she was pregnant. Felix means fortunate in Latin." Lizzie chimed in. "He's even been on tons of fashion magazine covers displaying her products. Though he was usually dressed as a girl as kid, so it carried over a little."

"It's better than Lizzie here! She dressed like a boy until she hit puberty!" Elizaveta blushed. "She was Gilbert Beillshmidt's rival in, like, everything. I remember this one time, they were having a cooking contest, he insulted Hungarian food, so she hit him with a frying pan! Their relationship is totes different now, though. She totes has a cru-" Liz clapped her hands over his mouth, blush deepening.

"I. Do. Not." She hissed.

Alfred rolled his eyes. Gilbert? Really? Why Gilbert? Liz seemed pretty nice, but Gilbert Beilshmidt seemed like a jerk. Though he really didn't know him that well…

Feliks removed Elizaveta's hand from his mouth. "Let's go to the shop!"

* * *

><p>There Alfred stood in a brown and gold pinstripe suit that brought out his tanned skin and golden hair. The cerulean dress shirt made his eyes practically glow, and the maroon tie deepened the healthy flush of his cheeks. In Lizzie's mind, he was hot. <em>Really<em> hot.

"This is a keeper!" she beamed.

"I don't have anywhere to wear it! I look ridiculous!" Alfred sputtered.

Feliks and the sales lady admired him. "You look fab." Feliks cheered.

"I don't feel it." Alfred muttered. "I feel like an idiot."

"But Alfred," Feliks coaxed, "You look so educated. If you wore an outfit like this, all the bad rumors would stop!"

Alfred looked startled for a moment, but then nodded grimly. He should have expected it, of course, but it still hurt that people were judging him so harshly for such stupid reasons.

"That's where we're different, Feliks. I don't belong in a world of snobs who judge people by their social background or origins, and instantly think better of them because they dress up. I belong in a place where people actually care about who you are. Not what you wear or what you came from."

Feliks seemed abashed. "Sorry, Alfie. I didn't mean it, but I just want to help. You know I like you how you are." His subdued nature disappeared as he snapped his fingers. "I know! I'll get you this suit for free as an apology!"

Alfred chuckled. There was no way he could stay upset for long with Feliks around.

He heard a click and saw a flash, and whipped his head around in time to see Elizaveta try on a pair of sunglasses. A ninja. She had to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Is it wierd that a fifteen year old doesn't have a cell phone? Though I'm nineteen, and I don't have one...<strong>

**Please leave me a review. I want to know what you guys think. Do you have any theories about the Star of David necklace? Do you like seeing Lizzie and Feliks as friends? What do you think of Aunt Meg? Please tell me!**

**Love ya!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	12. Whodunnit?

**Thanks for all your support guys! My Nordic-flag-painter-nails have been busily tapping away at keys this week! Sorry, this chapter's kinda filler, but I think the whole Kirkland family relationship thing is really important to the story as well. **

**I haven't obtained the rights to Hetalia yet, sadly, though I DID go see Captain America:The Winter Soldier in theatres and,let me tell you, _it was freakin BOSS! _I even went in my Captain America inspired minidress that I made. I'm such a nerd.**

* * *

><p>Alfred stumbled into the Kirkland manor as the family was nearing the end of dinner. Eight sets of eyes turned to him as he entered the dining room, loaded down with bags and packages. Peter instantly jumped up to help his hero carry his bags to his room, and neither Charles nor Margaret stopped him, though they had strict rules about leaving the dinner table before dinner was finished.<p>

When the boys returned, Peter kicking his legs happily as Alfred sat down next to him, Margaret turned to Alfred. "How was your day, dear?" She asked him as she motioned for the servants to bring him a serving of the meal.

"Tiring." Alfred replied instantly, thanking the servants for the food. "Now I know what it means to shop 'till you drop! Dude, I do _not _wanna do that again!" Nonetheless, he was smiling. Margaret was glad to see such joy in his eyes. Perhaps these new friends were good for him. Speaking of which-

"Who was it that you went with?"

"Oh, a kid I met at school. Feliks Lukasiewicz. He's a little strange, but still cool. He and his friend Elizaveta Hedervary ambushed me when I was out sightseeing and took me out for some quality bonding time AKA 'put Alfred in a dress and see if he notices' time." Alfred scowled. He wasn't going to forget that very quickly. On the other side of the table, the twins snorted, their devious minds clearly planning to hold this over his head. "Still, I did get some good clothes, but Feliks paid for them. I hate to be in debt, so I told him I'd pay him back. He said I already had. I wonder what he meant." Alfred blinked, confused.

"Didn't you know?" Arthur snorted. "Feliks' mother is a famous designer and very popular. Feliks, too, is on his way to being one. He owns an extremely popular fashion blog, and it isn't uncommon for him to give random people makeovers. He could've picked a better model if you ask me."

Alfred glared. "You're just jealous that he didn't pick you. No fashion magic could cover your eyebrows." He stuck out his tongue childishly. Peter roared in laughter. Unlike his elder brothers, his eyebrows were only moderately large. The other Kirklands chuckled a little self-consciously. Arthur turned red with rage and embarrassment, but before he was able to make an angry retort, Alfred snapped his finger and shouted an exclamation.

"I wasn't going crazy, then! Lizzie _was _taking pictures of me! She's a real ninja! She'd better not put all those photos on that blog." Alfred slumped in worry. It's not like he really had a reputation to uphold, but… it was still so embarrassing.

"Don't worry, Alfred." Peter's eyes shone with confidence and trust in his hero. Alfred felt himself grow by just looking into those eyes. Is this how Captain America felt? Or Iron Man? Or Superman? Being looked at with such unadulterated awe was truly amazing. He felt so much stronger. If this is what a hero truly felt like, he could get used to it-

Peter continued in his confident voice. "I'm sure you'd make a beautiful girl!"

And so, Alfred F. Jones was brought back to earth with a slump of shoulders.

* * *

><p>Alfred awoke early with the rest of the Kirkland family to attend Mass at The Church of the Holy Tabernacle, the Anglo-Catholic church his mother had been baptized in and attended for most of her life. Alfred had been going to Mass with the Kirklands since he'd arrived, yet it still felt awkward to him. Attending Sunday services was not new to Alfred. In fact, he had been to services regularly at a Catholic church his mother had attended as well as a Baptist church his father had been raised in. However, this was neither of those churches, nor was this family his mother and father. He could also not remember having to wear such fancy clothes. He bit back a sigh. It was called 'Sunday best' for a reason. He glanced once more in the mirror at his reflection, clad in the suit Feliks had bought him, looking every bit the aristocrat with smooth and tame hair, aside from that cowlick. Alfred glanced at it with pride. Never before had he been so glad that his hair couldn't lay perfectly flat. At least <em>one <em>part of him still looked like his old self.

Alfred walked down the steps to see the Kirklands all equally dressed up and waiting. He tried to ignore the jaws dropping, and smiled when Aunt Meg beamed at him and gathered him in her arms. "You look absolutely dashing!" She complimented him.

Peter stood gazing up in awe at Alfred's polished and refined appearance. "You look like a gentleman!" He beamed. Alfred grunted. He didn't really care much for being a gentleman. He was a hero! Though, his mom had always taught him how to be a gentleman anyway. Mattie had taken to those lessons better than he. His brother was always trying to be as polite as he could, whereas Alfred talked frankly and always said his true feelings, rather than sugar-coating his words. He'd always thought it to be a good trait of his, but Mattie had always told him it was rude.

The Kirkland family rode the limo to church, and two burly bodyguards walked with them for security. The service was beautiful, as always, and Alfred tried hard to ignore the memories of going to similar Masses with his mother. He and Matthew took turns going to their parents respective churches so both their mother and father would have one child each Sunday to take to church with them. Alfred loved going to the Catholic service with his mother. Everyone was so reverent and everything was so beautiful. This church reminded him of it greatly. After the service, Alfred and the Kirklands went to greet the Bishop, who had been the pastor of The Church of The Holy Tabernacle for years and saw Alfred's own mother grow up there.

"Catherine was such a good girl. I was saddened when she disappeared and devastated when I found out recently what happened." He looked at Alfred with sorrow in his eyes. "I am very sorry for your loss, though I am sure she is now looking down on you from heaven."

_You wouldn't be so sure if you knew how she died. _Alfred thought, though outwardly, he just thanked the man for his kind words. They stopped at her grave in the cemetery and left flowers, but as the Kirkland family was around him, Alfred didn't talk to his mother, so the visit was short.

When they arrived back at the Kirkland house, they enjoyed a delicious breakfast of omelets and breakfast sandwiches. Still, Alfred found himself craving the Sunday pancakes he and Mattie always made. Maybe someday he would make some for the Kirklands.

He smiled at the thought.

* * *

><p>Sunday night at the Kirkland house was family night. Each Sunday, one of the family members chose an activity in which they all participated. This Sunday, Peter declared that Alfred should be given the honors. Without a second thought, Alfred suggested a game night. Sunday had always been game night at his house.<p>

After grueling games of Monopoly, Sorry, Guessgures, and Pictionary (in which the Kirklands finally understood what Alfred meant when he said 'I suck at drawing'), Alfred pulled out the final game of the night: Clue. The parents opted to sit out and watch so that each of the boys could play. Alistair grumbled at still having to play, but Owain just laughed. He knew Alistair was enjoying it.

As they set up the board, Alfred dove for one of the pieces, and when he had achieved it, let out a triumphant shout. "Yes! I got Colonel Mustard!" He did a dance around the room. "With this weapon in my arsenal, I am undefeatable!"

"Ha!" Arthur scoffed. "You would like to think that. But I assure you that you're wrong. I am the master at Cluedo in this family, and the reigning champion game piece has always been Mrs. White." He proudly displayed the figurine of the cook. "No one suspects the old lady!"

Owain chuckled as he set up Miss Scarlet. Alistair grumbled. He wanted Colonel Mustard, but instead he got Mr. Green. _Well, it could be worse. _He shrugged as he surveyed the twins, who always teamed up, holding Professor Plum, while Peter whined about having to be Miss Peacock.

"Alright!" Alfred cheered. "Let's get this party started!" He quickly divided the cards into three piles and took a card from each pile, placing them in the 'Confidential' file. Then he divided the remaining cards between the players and handed the dice to Peter, the player to his right. The game progressed smoothly until Alfred reached his first room, the kitchen, and instantly declared that he had an announcement.

"Ahem!" He cleared his throat and spoke in a posh accent that was clearly supposed to belong to Colonel Mustard. "I would like to announce that I have a suspect, good chaps!" Arthur rolled his eyes at the horrible impersonation, but widened them when Alfred's accusing finger was shoved in his face. "It was Mrs. White!" He boomed. "She was in the Kitchen, baking a batch of scones for dinner that night, and saw Mr. Body walk past. She had always secretly loved him, and when she saw him in his velvet housecoat, looking so dapper, she could only concentrate on him! So she burnt the scones. What a pity. They would have sucked anyway." Arthur sputtered. His cooking did not suck! "When she had seen what her love for him had made her do, she grabbed the wrench, which she always carried with her for unknown reasons, and, with a mighty swing, she lopped off his head!" Alfred pantomimed the deed as Peter watched in horrified awe. "Then, she took the body and dumped it out the window." He sat down with a satisfied nod and waited for the stunned silence to break.

And it did. Shamus and Liam began rolling in laughter, while Aunt Meg and Uncle Charlie tried hard to control their own. Owain chuckled with mirth and Alistair snorted out a rare laugh. Peter cheered with all his might, and Arthur angrily retaliated. "How could you accuse such a kind humble old lady as Mrs. White to do such a thing! Mr. Body definitely would have loved her back if the floozy Miss Scarlet didn't have him trapped by her womanly wiles! And where's your proof! Where are her fingerprints on the murder weapon?" Arthur glared at Alfred. How dare he question such a respectable lady like Mrs. White's reputation!

Alfred burst out laughing. "C'mon Artie! It wasn't even an accusation! It was a dramatic suspicion! I was only asking if anyone had Mrs. White, the Kitchen or the Wrench!"

And so continued the game, each suspicion more ridiculous than the last. After many more lectures on how it would be impossible for thin Miss Scarlet to lift such a huge solid gold candlestick, or how professor plum would know that bludgeoning with a lead pipe was an unscientific way of murder and would have preferred dissecting him with a knife, Arthur gave up trying to correct Alfred's wild imagination, and, to the amusement of the rest of his family, decided that outdoing him would definitely be a better idea.

* * *

><p><strong>I actually play Clue like that. Dramatically suspecting people and all. Only I'm always Miss Peacock. Oh, and if you didn't know, Clue is called Cluedo in England. Don't ask why.<strong>

**So I did alot of research to decide what religion Alfred should've been raised, and, as I believe in using 'historical and political canon', went with the two most common in America: Catholic and Baptist. I was rather surprised to find that 76% of Americans are Christian. The most common individual denomination is Roman Catholicism at about 24% of the population. I thought it wouldn't be a very large stretch for a former Anglican like Catherine to become Catholic, as they are extremely similar and many Anglicans actually consider themselves Catholic. His father is Baptist. Both these religions are known to encourage formal dress on Sunday. It's a tradition. I'm Catholic, myself, though, and many who go to my parish show up at Mass in jeans and a T-shirt, so some places are more lax. **

**I'm going to have a surgery tomorrow, so I got off from work. I may be able to work for n this story. Yay!**

**Please leave a review on your way out!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	13. An Unheralded Aide

**Heyaz!**

**Soooooo The weather is absolutely GORGEOUS! As such, I didn't do quite as much typing as I expected and spent most of the time out in the beautiful 60 degree weather. Seriously, the only remembrances of our heavily snow-laden winter are the potholes. or should I call them sinkholes? No joke. Some of them are a good foot deep and up to 3 feet in diameter. I feel like I'm playing real life Mario Kart when I drive to work. **

**It has been requested of me to do some insight on Arthur's brothers' thoughts, and so this chapter was spawned. More Kirkland family and a good bit of Angst. Also, new characters! We'll get back to school in the next chapter, don't worry!**

**I watched Frozen. I think I was a little Disillusioned. Rise of the Guardians was better.**

Elizabeth and Henry Kirkland had the intent to visit their daughter-in-law and grandson and hear how their travels went. They, too, had recently returned from a trip to Canada for the past couple months, and thought this a good time for reunion. However, they had not expected to find the family gathered around a board game as Arthur gloated his win.

"As you can see, you cannot beat me, when Mrs. White, the true symbol of motherly English cooks, is in my hand. She, in her pure white apron, will always rise above the slander of you accusations. And how does it feel that it was _Colonel Mustard_ who, in fact, killed Mr. Body!"

Elizabeth glanced from her dramatic blonde grandson to the object of his monologue, and her breath caught in her throat. That blonde hair, those blue eyes! That smile! She didn't realize she let out a shriek.

All occupants of the room turned to her, startled, aside from her husband who also stared at Alfred in shock.

Charles rose from his seat. "Mother," he soothed, "We weren't keeping him a secret from you. We were going to tell you-"

He was abruptly cut off. "_That boy _is _their _child, isn't he? That girl I raised who betrayed me and that man she ran away with. I had a perfectly respectable man planned for her, yet she had to get all rebellious and leave." She cast her burning eyes upon the boy on the floor. "_That _is what comes of such disobedience."

Alfred shrunk beneath her hate-filled gaze. But there was more to those eyes than hate, he realized as he saw tears drip from the older woman's eyes. She was sad: unbearably sad and betrayed. Alfred knew what his mom had been like. She was gentle and refined, well behaved and mannerly. It must have been a shock for her parents when she defied them and eloped with his father.

The older woman continued to glare at him, while the older man, though he seemed just as hostile, tried to rein his wife in.

Margaret stood and, with all the grace and diplomacy befitting her position and class, took charge. " Mother, Father, I'd like you to meet Alfred. He will be staying with us from now on. Please help us make him feel at home. The move has been hard on him, I'm sure, and he doesn't need any further stress." She turned to Alfred. "These are Charles' parents, Alfred, Elizabeth and Henry Kirkland."

"If the boy is here, where is Catherine?" The old man's eyes were filled with half-concealed hope. "Has she returned to us?"

Charles shook his head sadly. "Catherine passed away some time ago. Alfred is all that is left of her." His face tightened in pain. The knowledge of his sister's passing would probably never stop hurting him. His father, too seemed heartbroken, though in the face of his wife's anger, he hid it behind his own mask of rage and bitterness.

Elizabeth spoke again shrilly, "I want nothing left of her! Get rid of him! I will not accept a bastard child!"

Alfred winced. If only Mattie was here with him. His brother was so polite and charming. He could get anyone to love him: even Carlos had been friends with him for a while. Surely, Mattie could have softened the hard, cold hatred in these aged faces.

"Mother, please," Margaret spoke firmly and softly, though a hint of anger showed through, "Alfred has been adopted into our family. He deserves a loving family more than anyone. If you cannot approve of our decision, I will have to ask you to leave. Alfred doesn't bother us in the least."

Turning to her grandchildren, who still sat poised around the long-forgotten Cluedo board with varying looks of shock on their faces, Elizabeth attempted a sweet smile, though it slid into a less attractive smirk. "What do you boys have to say on the matter? I'm sure it's been hard on you, having to share your home and lives with this _boy_. I'm sure you've had your share of troubles. Come, now, tell Nana all about it."

Alistair spoke first as the unofficial leader. "Nan, Alfred's been here a couple months, and we've grown to like him. _Most _of us, at least." He sent a glance at Arthur, who turned away. "He hasn't been a bother at all. In fact, we rather like having him here." Alfred's head raised in shock at this. Alistair _liked_ having him? But he never gave any indication that he cared about Alfred's existence in the slightest!

Owain nodded his head emphatically. "He's a cheerful and nice boy. We all get along rather well."

Elizabeth looked a little shocked that her grandsons didn't back her up. Charles placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now, Mother, I think you should go home. I'm sure this has been a shock to you." Elizabeth shoved his hand from her shoulder and turned to Alfred, eyes flashing.

"Do you see what you've done?" She screeched, he voice cracking with emotion. "Now _I'm _the villain! You're tearing this family apart. You don't belong here! You'll _never _belong here!"

Vaguely, Arthur acknowledged Peter trying not to cry.

And suddenly Arthur was standing because he remembered those words. Words so similar to those that he had uttered with vengeance less than a week ago. _Had it really been only a week ago? _It felt like years had passed since he'd said those bitter words: before he twisted that knife and received a blinding smile. Did that smile ever wear off? Like a clown's face with a painted smile that hid the true emotions, was it washed away by tears? Or was there never a chance?

Alfred understood Othello. His voice was filled with an almost tangible pain when he recounted the emotions of a man who had lost all he loved.

Despite his claims of being a hero, Alfred felt inadequate. His guitar wept with emotion, as he sang along, like it was the translator of his heart, but couldn't bear to lay forth all it had experienced. The song rang in his head even now.

Arthur had, long ago, asked Alistair why he treated him differently from his other brothers. Alistair had replied with conviction that it was because he _was _different. He would always be reading or playing fairies while his brothers fought and went on adventures. It was the difference, he said, between a child and a man. Men realize when there's something they have to do and they do it. Children expect others to slay the dragon or save the princess because they will never be ready to do it themselves.

Arthur briefly wondered is Alistair remembered his words. Would he take them back, if given the chance? He banished the thought from his head. This wasn't about Alistair. It was about Alfred. It was about what was right.

"I thought that too, Nana." His silent and solemn declaration surprised the old woman, who turned to him. Arthur had always been different than his brothers. She favored him, because they shared common interests in mythical creatures and great literature and needlework. They always agreed.

"Finally," she smiled, "Someone with sense."

Arthur pitied her. He didn't know the story behind Aunt Catherine's disappearance until now, and still didn't comprehend everything. But he could only imagine how much it must have hurt his grandmother to make her gentle and loving face twist into such a cruel expression.

Alfred's head was hung slightly in defeat, and Arthur felt a stab of empathy. He didn't know Alfred's case either. He knew his mother died, but knew nothing of the father. But he did know how it felt to be out of place. To be completely alone while surrounded by people. He knew and he _understood_ and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the urge to _Protect. Protect. Protect. _

Because it's what he had always wished someone would do for him.

"I _thought _that, Nana. But I was wrong. Alfred is here now. It may take time, but this place will be his _home._" He almost laughed to see the shock and elation on his cousin's face. "I suppose I'd best get used to the idea."

Alistair drew in a long drag of his cigarette and breathed it out into the damp night air. Tonight had definitely been interesting. He'd found himself strangely drawn into their ridiculous game night, even catching himself smiling at the antics of his cousin and even Arthur.

Arthur.

He'd never known how to deal with the brat. _Arthur, _he reminded himself. _He has a name. _He hadn't _always _clashed with him, had he? They were so very different, but he vaguely recalled enjoying the company of a toddling Arthur, reading to him at night, feigning death and injury when they roughhoused to send his little brother into peals of laughter.

But he hadn't stayed little, had he? He had grown, and grown right out of Alistair's affections. Arthur was smart. He mouthed off. He liked daydreaming and writing poems and talking to fairies more than he liked fighting with wooden swords and planting frogs in the maids' aprons. Alistair wanted a _brother _not a _sister_.

He just didn't know what to do about him. He tried leading him into their adventures and games, but Arthur would have none of it. The only games he would play were his stupid competitions with that French boy. It also didn't help that their mother and their grandmother seemed to favor him.

His musing was broken off by a knock at his bedroom door. He peered through his balcony door into his room. Who would be bugging him at this hour? He snuffed out his cigarette and padded through his room to the door.

To his surprise, slightly timid blue eyes met his.

"Alfred? What do you want?"

Alfred smiled a little nervously. "Hey Alistair! Could I talk to ya for a sec?"

Alistair nodded and opened his door, turning away to walk over to his bed and plop down. He gestured to a plushy sofa nearby and Alfred obediently sat.

"So what is it?" Alistair stifled a yawn. He was tired.

"I just wanted to say thanks for tonight and for sticking up for me." Alfred smiled. "It must've been pretty hard to go against you grandma like that. Thanks."

"I mean what I say, Alfred. We don't mind having you here. And as Arthur said, maybe this isn't your home right now, but it _will _be. We'll see to it."

Alfred laughed. "I didn't expect Arthur to stick up for me either! That was a surprise. I thought he hated me!" It was still hard for him to wrap his mind around it. Elizabeth had said practically the same things Arthur had, and yet Arthur defended him. Did that mean he regretted his words?

"Don't blame Arthur too much for his words, lad." Alistair responded. "It's probably my fault that he felt such animosity toward you in the first place."

Alfred nodded, though he clearly didn't understand what Alistair meant. "I don't blame you guys. I guess it's just up to you now to make sure he gets that all sorted out. You're his big bro, after all!"

Alistair smiled. "I'd best get to work then."

**I can't excuse Alistair's feelings. All I can do is say I've been in his place and it's not pretty. I'm just glad things were resolved in my life before they got too bad.**

**I want to watch The Winter Soldier again. I fall so hard for altruistic blue-eyed blondes. **

**OMG! Over 50 reviews! Thanks for your support guys!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	14. Haunted by Harpies

**Hey people! Sorry this chapter is a little short. Holy Week is insane for us, and I didn't get much writing in. Hope you all had an awesome Easter!**

**I think that the hardest thing about this story is coming up with battle-y sounding titles that have something to do with the chapter. I don't even think anyone cared aside from me. Oh well.**

**I officially chose Hillsdale College! Yay! I'll be a Freshman this fall! I'm excited.**

**I haven't obtained the rights to Hetalia, but I am learning German! See? "Seid ihr das Essen? Nein, wir sind der Jager." XD**

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><p>Arthur awoke feeling happier than he had in a while. He wasn't quite sure why. Sure, he'd beaten Alfred at Cluedo and defended his title as reigning champion of the Kirkland house, though Alfred had declared that the hero would never really lose, and that he would bring Mrs. White down eventually. But beating the American at a board game couldn't be the reason that he was feeling so much better. He shrugged his shoulders and clambered out of bed to do his morning routine. Arthur realized what the cause for his happier mood was when he entered the kitchen to find his family and Alfred eating around the table. Owain smiled at him as he entered the room. Blinking, Arthur glanced around at his other brothers, to find the twins laughing about Arthur's gloating victory speech, Peter cheerily waving at him, and Allistor, yes, <em>the <em>Allistor giving him a nod of greeting.

It was when he glanced at the last boy at the table that he remembered the full events of the previous night.

Alfred beamed up at him. "Hiya, sleeping beauty! Nice of you to join the family!" He munched on his Fruit Loops, foregoing the dainty watercress sandwiches the others were eating.

Alfred glared half-heartedly. He was in a good mood right now and he wouldn't let Alfred spoil it. "Yes, well," he replied airily, "For some of us, beauty sleep actually works." He gave Alfred a once over in mock distain. "And then there's you."

Alfred chuckled. "Hey! You actually _do _have a sense of humor!"

Charles rose from the table and kissed his wife. "I must be off to work. Do well in school, boys!" When he'd received a reply in form of a nod or grunt of affirmation, he left.

"We should get going, too." Allistor declared as he kissed his mother and motioned to the other boys to follow him. They filed out the door and into the limo, even Peter, wearing one of his many sailor suits.

The boys conversed amiably throughout the short ride, and when they disembarked, headed to their separate schools. Alfred gave Arthur some space. As his cousin had previously told him that he didn't want to be seen together with the American, it surprised him when Arthur dropped back to walk beside him and awkwardly initiated conversation.

"So." His cousin began. "How are you fitting in at our school?"

"Not too badly." Alfred replied, surprised at the question. "It's really different, but I've made some good friends, though I may have made some enemies, too." At Arthur's questioning glance he elaborated. "I met the Bad Touch Trio and became friends with Toris, Eduard, and Raivis, so Ivan kinda hates me too."

Arthur gaped at him. "Are you completely daft?" He finally declared, eyes blazing with exasperation and worry? "Those are the most dangerous people in school, and yet you just decide to meddle with them? They can destroy your reputation and your body separately, and God forbid they join together on this! What did you do to get the Bad Touch Trio on your back? Not that it's all that hard. They're always looking for a fight."

"Well, I'm not actually sure, really." Alfred scratched his head in confusion. "I met them and we talked for a bit, and they were kinda rude, but I didn't think much about it, but Lovino- he's one of my friends- said to be super careful of them and that they're really bad news."

"They're bad news all right!" Arthur glared. I've known Francis since we were very young and we've never gotten along."

Alfred nodded as he caught sight of his locker. He could definitely see Arthur hating the flirtatious Frenchman. "Well, I guess I'll see you around." Alfred declared. Arthur nodded and moved on. Alfred whistled the Captain America theme song merrily. _Arthur_ had been the one to start talking to _him_! Did this mean he didn't hate him anymore? For the fist time he noticed some of the looks he was receiving from the girls that walked by. He stopped whistling, assuming that the attention was because of that, but the ogling didn't stop.

Alfred's musings were cut off with the arrival of a certain flashy blonde. "Hey, Alfie! Lookin' good in that fab hoodie! Didn't I tell you we'd find some stuff you'd like?" Alfred grinned.

"Hey, Feliks. Yup, it's pretty comfy. Not that I care about brand names or anything, but it looks pretty cool too. I even wore that suit you got me for church yesterday!" Feliks nodded proudly.

"Of course you looked fabulous. It was my idea after all! Oh, and guess what! Over the weekend, I put your pics up on my blog! Oh wait, I never told you about that, did I? Oops. Oh well. You looked totally fabulous! Lizzie wanted to put up the picture of you in your dress, but I didn't let her. I thought it would be best if I asked you about that one first." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief and thanked Feliks. "Oh, and you're totes popular! You should be a model! All my comments were about how gorgeous you are and how fabulous you looked. At this rate, you'll have a fan club in no time."

Alfred's eyes widened. "A fan club? I'm not sure I'd know what to do with one! Though living here has been totally awkward since the beginning, so I guess you might as well heap on the embarrassment." Feliks laughed.

"That's the spirit, honey! Good thing you don't mind, because it seems you've already got some girls after you!" He gestured to a group of girls who Alfred had noticed looking at him before. Did they want something? When Alfred posed this question to Feliks, the Polish boy just glanced at him quizzically.

"Well, duh they want something." He rolled his eyes. "They want you to talk to them or look at them or smile at them." At Alfred's blank stare, Feliks sighed. "You're totes clueless. Look, just smile at them."

Alfred nodded unsurely. What was the point of this? He flashed the girls his megawatt Hollywood smile, and they turned red and started giggling. He glanced back at Feliks who was giving him a 'do you get it now?' look.

"Ummm… so…Why are they staring at me?"

Feliks decided that a face palm wasn't adequate and promptly slammed his head into Alfred's locker.

When Alfred plopped down next to Lovino in Literature, his first class on Mondays, the Italian gave him an approving nod. "Your clothes definitely look better. When did you get a fashion sense?" Alfred huffed in annoyance.

"You look as stuffy as ever in your suit, too. Feliks took me shopping. He gave me a bit of a makeover on Saturday." Alfred couldn't understand how people could see the difference between brand name clothes and normal clothes. He was still wearing a hoodie and jeans, but suddenly, he was getting all this attention.

"Ah, yes. We all read Feliks' blog. He gives very good style advice." The fashionable Italian remarked begrudgingly.

"Hey! Wanna eat together with Kiku and Ludwig and Feliciano today? It might be fun to expand our picnic a little! There were these two guys I met on the first day, Tino and Berwald, who seemed pretty cool! And maybe we could invite Feliks, Lizzie, Toris, Raivis and Edua-" Alfred's excited rambling was quickly cut off when Lovino slapped a hand over his mouth and furtively glanced around the room to check if anyone was listening. Alfred stared on confused.

"What do you think you're saying?" Lovino hissed when he was satisfied that no one had heard. "You can't even _think_ of inviting Ivan's friends, _bastardo._ Do you not know what he's done? Ivan is dangerous. Stay away from him and stay away from his friends, and don't even talk about them. Ivan has ears all over the school, and if they hear you saying such things, they will tell him and he won't even _hesitate _to crush you. Do you understand me?" Alfred nodded a little fearfully. Was Ivan really such a big deal?

"But…does that mean Feli and Ludwig and Kiku can't eat with us?" Alfred gave Lovino his best puppy eyes, and even considered adding a lip wobble, but decided it would only look stupid.

Lovino tried. He tried hard. But those damn blue eyes, almost welling with tears. He wasn't a puppy kicker! He couldn't do it! He gave in. "Fine, dammit. If my company isn't good enough for you, you can invite those bastards!" He folded his arms in defiance as Alfred cheered.

"Thank you Lovino! You're the best friend ever!"

Lovino gaped at him. Seriously? Alfred thought he was the best friend ever? He tried hard not to let it matter to him, but he couldn't help the burning of tears behind his eyes. He was the _best. _He was finally the best at something! Lovino looked away and scrubbed at his eyes. Why did What Alfred said matter so much? He'd never been so easily affected by the words of others.

As Mr. William entered the room, and even all through class, Lovino pondered the mystery, until he looked over and caught the blonde American dozing off and had to hide a smile. A smile! Him!

That was when Lovino realized. Alfred's opinion mattered, because he was Lovino's best friend. He buried his face in his book and sobbed about the depressing story of Othello, because he certainly wasn't crying happy tears, dammit!

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><p><strong>If you like adorable America and Romano interaction, please check out the stories of rajikka and Coffee-Flavored Fate. They're such great writers! Though I only write friendship, they write cute romance!<strong>

**Thanks so much for all your support guys!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	15. The First Confrontation

**Orra Minna! (guess what Hetalia song that's from and you get a cookie!)**

**I had a great week! How about you guys? Though I did go to a going-away party for my cousins. They're moving to Florida. TT^TT I'm super depressed right now, cuz we're really close-knit, and Florida's, like, a 19 hour drive. **

**I'm catching up to what I've written very quickly and it's making me nervous. I'll need to work hard this week! **

**As usual, I do not own Hetalia. Pity, that. There'd be so much spamano fluff if I did.**

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><p>As Alfred packed up his advanced calculus books and thanked his teacher for the class, he pondered on the strange phenomenon of a crying Italian. Why did Lovino suddenly burst into tears? He told Alfred that Othello was depressing, and Alfred agreed, but would that really make him cry? The American shrugged. Maybe Lovino was secretly very sensitive.<p>

As Alfred was heading toward Chemistry Lab, he recognized a familiar face. "Hey Toris!" he called to the boy. He was a little surprised to see the crowd of students glance at him in shock and cease their chatter in favor of whispering when they heard those words. "Are you heading to your next class? I'm off to Chem Lab." Toris turned to him with a smile.

"Nice to see you again, Alfred. Yes, I am going off to Polish class. Feliks has been bothering me to learn it for a long time. Be careful calling out to me, though." Toris looked a little worried. "Ivan has eyes everywhere. Furthermore, He is in your next class. Be careful."

Alfred thanked Toris for the words of warning, and after saying goodbye, moved on to Chemistry Lab. When He arrived, Mr. Mendeleev welcomed him and started class, continuing from where they had left off the week before. Today was experiment day. They could do any experiments they wished and leave when they were finished. Alfred had always found chemistry, fascinating, so it had instantly been labeled 'a good class' since the first session. Today they had to do an experiment of their choice, and afterwards, they were free to go. As Mr. Mendeleev showed them where to find any of the chemicals they might need as well as common household goods that were useful, Alfred perused his Chemistry book. Smoke bombs? That'd be cool…

He was slightly startled when he felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned to see the smiling face of a very tall platinum blonde boy in a scarf.

"_Privet._" The boy said to him in a friendly voice, "You are Alfred F. Jones, _da_? I remember seeing you in this class before, though we have never had the chance to be speaking until now. I hope you are enjoying this school."

"Uh, yeah, I am. Thanks!" Alfred replied, walking up to the supply cabinet to get the ingredients he needed. The boy followed him.

"I am glad of it. It would be such a pity if you did not enjoy yourself here, _da_?" The boy continued to smile. Alfred had nothing against smiling, of course. He did it all the time! But this guy kinda looked creepy. He collected what he needed and returned to his desk.

"Yeah, it would suck, huh? But it's okay, cuz I've made some pretty cool friends." Alfred carefully measured two creamy liquids and a white powder into a bowl and mixed them up. Pulling out a small bottle, he measured a bit of the extract and added it to the mix.

"_Da, _I have heard about your 'friends'. Which is, perhaps, the reason I have come to speak with you here. You see," his voice turned dark, "I do not like it when people steal my friends." Alfred was unfazed. He had an idea of who this was all along, and, supposing that was true, expected such a confrontation.

"Yes, Ivan, I've heard as much, so let me tell you something." He turned his unusually cold blue eyes to Ivan's almost violet shaded ones. "If Toris, Raivis and Eduard were your friends, you would let them choose friends of their own. Instead, you force them into solitude by scaring everyone away." Alfred broke eye contact to grab the large canister at his feet and heft it onto the table.

"They only need me." Ivan's eyes flashed and his smile twisted into a sneer. "I can protect them from those who wish to hurt them, and they would never be lonely for I would never leave them." His eyes widened when Alfred poured the contents of the canister into the bowl and a plume of mist rolled out.

"Did you ever ask them if they wanted that?" Alfred calmly replied, stirring the liquids together and ignoring the billowing gases. "No. You didn't. You're forcing yourself on them, and they're scared of you." _They're not your friends. _He almost said, but stopped himself in time. When his mixture became an acceptable thickness, he capped the canister of misty chemicals, straightened his area, and picked up the bowl and a spoon.

"Let me tell you this, Ivan." He declared with determination. "If you don't stop what you're doing, I _will _bring you down. You can count on that."

Alfred nodded to his teacher and left. Ivan blinked as he considered their conversation and his eyes widened at something he had seen.

Had that American just make ice cream?

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><p>Indeed, Alfred had made ice cream, and he happily ate it as he wandered the halls. Since he finished his experiment and left early, they were mostly empty. He put away his books and grabbed his lunch, left a note in Kiku's locker to meet him outside for lunch and headed out into the garden. To his surprise, he found Lovino there as well.<p>

"Hey, Lovino!" He cheered making the Italian start in his seat. "Why are you out of class so early?"

"I never went." The brunette glared daggers. "_Nonno _was being stupid so I decided not to go to World History as payback. It's his favorite class." He smirked at his own deviousness.

"You little devil you." Alfred deadpanned at the Italian's smug look. "On a brighter note, I made ice cream! Want some?" As Alfred shared his vanilla ice cream made with liquid nitrogen, he recounted to Lovino his meeting with Ivan. "I think everyone's right. He's really creepy. But Toris almost seemed like he wanted to defend him. I don't really understand. He was kinda saying how Ivan's just lonely and hurt and didn't want to let his friends go, but I really don't like how he's doing it. Seriously, he'd like the total villain! But villains always seem to have a back story, ya know? Or maybe he's like Doc Oc, and he was twisted, but there's still some real humanity and innocence in him! If only I could figure out what it is, I might be able to bring it out of him and turn him good! And then maybe he could save the day at the exchange of his own life and finally redeem himself!" Alfred teared up as he remembered the touching scene from Spiderman 2.

Lovino just stared at him with a skeptical look on his face. "I don't see that happening, bastard. But I guess you could try. Even if you can't turn him good, knowing his weakness would definitely be helpful."

Alfred nodded. "How about we go undercover! Feliks and Lizzie could probably hook us up with some cool spy outfits, though theirs weren't very practical, so maybe not…"

His brainstorming was disturbed (much to Lovino's relief) by the arrival of Kiku, Ludwig, and Feliciano (who instantly attatched himself to his brother and refused to let go. Alfred ignored Lovino's adamant refusal of hug therapy and welcomed Ludwig and Kiku. The five boys snacked on Alfred's ice cream and talked about anything and everything until they had to go in to their next class.

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><p>World History passed uneventfully by, which Alfred was thankful for, though he was receiving many strange looks. They were different from those he had been getting that morning. They seemed to almost be filled with…pity? It wasn't until he was approached by a boy in Mandarin class that he realized why.<p>

"_Nǐ hǎo_" A voice exclaimed, and Alfred looked up from his textbook to see an asian boy with a long ponytail of black hair wearing traditional Chinese hanfu with dragons on them. "Are you Alfred F. Jones?" at Alfred's nod of affirmation, the boy continued. "I am Wang Yao. You may call me Yao, _aru_. Kǒng Qiū, our noble teacher has suggested that I help you with your studies. I am a senior and a student aide here, _aru_."

Alfred thanked him and began to explain what he was having trouble with. Still, he could feel the stares on his back.

"Hey, Yao? Why are people looking at me like that?" Yao turned to him, not looking at all confused by Alfred's question.

"They have heard that you stood up to Braginsky. They are worried for you, though they dare not show it in fear that he will crush them, _aru_." The boy replied calmly. "You have done something very foolish, yet also brave, _aru._ May the spirits of your Ancestors give you strength to face him."

Alfred thanked him for his well-wishing, and as they continued to study the lesson, he pondered over the words. So Ivan wanted to let everyone know of their impending fight? Perhaps he wanted to publicly crush the American, and make him an example. Well, Alfred wasn't going to stand for that. The hero never gives up until the villain is destroyed! Alfred was going to free this school from Ivan the Terrible's reign, wether he made it through alive or not!

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><p><strong>Yao's '<em>aru<em>' is so adorable!**

**So! Alfred and Ivan have officially met! Any thoughts?**

**You actually can make ice-cream with liquid nitrogen. I really want to. **

**It's getting cold and cloudy out. Urgh. "Tut tut, it looks like rain!" (If you get this reference, you are so awesome.)**

**Thanks for all the awesome support! I never expected people to love this so much!**

**Peace out, cub scout!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	16. The First Attack

**Hi Guys!**

**I'm sooooooo sorry this came out 2 days late! I seriously thought I had released it. I edited it and everything, but never released it. Geez. I'm really, really sorry! And then I put up the wrong chapter. Geez. This is not my week.**

**Sooo... I've totally caught up to what I've written for this story so far, so I may have to start updating every other week. I spend all my spare time writing, but I may not be able to keep up weekly releases. Sorry! I have everything planned out though, so don't worry.**

**I've also made the Alfred VS Ivan ordeal much larger than I originally expected. It was initially rather lame, but I've gotten so many wonderful reviews with people anticipating greatness, so I had a serious brainstorming session with my little sister (who it also my proofreader/beta-ish) and made it awesomer. Thanks guys, for all the support!**

**Props to The Egoist's Girlfriend for guessing that my greeting last chapter was from the Nordics theme song! Great Job! And a huge kudos to ChocolatoAlliance for guessing that Kong Qui is based off of Confucius! Totally didn't expect anyone to get that!**

**Just watched Mean Girls for the first time. France is Regina, Spain is Karen, and Prussia is Gretchen. England is Cady. **

**Germany is Glen Coco.**

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><p>October 1st at Circle Academy was a momentous occasion. It was the start of the academy's annual cultural festival. The weeks beforehand were bustling with plans and plotting as students of all ages and even faculty set up booths and activities that showcased their country's culture. Usually, the students formed groups with others who hailed from the same nation and planned a special event. Not only was this competition between the students but, as many were future leaders of their respective countries, a competition between countries as well. The nationality group that placed the highest among students' votes won the prestige and pride of being the greatest and showing their country's superiority to all the students.<p>

Alfred was completely lost. Since he was the only American, he had no group to plan with, and had no ideas of his own to bring to the table. So when Arthur invited him to join the 'United Kingdom' group, he readily accepted. As many students of Circle Academy were from England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland due to their close proximity with the academy, it was one of the largest groups. However, since it was such a diverse and massive group, much arguing took place.

"I say we bring out the bagpipes and kilts! _Scotland the Brave _would ring out so loud e'ryone would be cryin'!"

"Because their bloody ears would fall off!"

"Aye, ye have to admit an Irish Tenor band would be better."

"Now don't get too full o' yorse'f! Everyone knows Wales is home to the greatest bards! We could have a minstrel sing Welsh ballads that would make all the audience weep!"

Arthur, of course, had to throw in his two cents. "An elegant high tea would be best! It showcases the height of British civilization! We could all dress in traditional Victorian garb!"

"Ohh!" Alfred cheered. "I volunteer to play the Indian who throws all your tea in the water!"

"Ha. Ha. You're bloody hilarious."

"C'mon, lads," declared Alistair, the nominated leader of the British Isle students, "We only have less than three weeks until the cultural festival! We have to plan something!"

"Don't worry," Owain remarked cheerfully, "There are so many of us. Once we decide what we're doing, all the preparations can be completed quickly! 'Many hands make light work,' after all."

"I think 'too many cooks spoil the broth' would be more fitting in this case," Alistair commented dryly, nodding toward the twins who were telling the Northern Ireland students that they should join the Irish students, effectively riling them up and causing them to proudly and belligerently declare their loyalty to The Queen.

"Unless it's English broth!" Arthur said proudly.

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, "Just one cook can spoil it well enough."

And so the bickering continued.

The other groups were having it much easier. The Italians, French, Spanish and Germans quickly formed their individual groups and began planning their events. The Nordic students formed an alliance and swore to conquer the school for Scandinavia.

Ivan, knowing that a greater amount of people was to their advantage, bullied all Slavic students into joining him. Feliks went straight to Alfred with the news.

Alfred was very displeased.

He found Ivan relaxing in a lounge chair and watching with a smile while his minions around him painted sets and sewed costumes. According to Feliks, Ivan had decided they would put on dances to Tchaikovsky's most famous works.

Alfred marched up to him and grabbed the scarf wound around his neck, dragging his face closer. Ivan continued to smile at him, though his eyes promised pain to the boy who dared touch him.

"Let go of my scarf, and you will not be harmed, _da_?" He said in a polite voice. All the students around stared in awe, wondering whether they should keep walking and pretend they didn't see the American grab Ivan's scarf or if they should stick around and see what came of the confrontation.

"You're the one who'll be lucky if I don't beat you up, ya know!" In his rage, Alfred didn't notice that his Bronx accent, which he'd been trying to tone down since he'd come to England, came back in full swing. "I _told _you that you'd be goin' down if you messed with the students." He remembered how excited Raivis had been about the cultural festival when he'd been chatting with Alfred one day. He had planned to team up with the Estonian group and show of his gymnastics routine with Eduard. And yet now he stood miserably by, sewing _Swan Lake _costumes.

"I only asked my friends if they would help me with my plans and they agreed. You are making something of this that is not there." Ivan replied innocently. "And now, I would like you to let go of my scarf," His large hands wrapped around Alfred's wrist and squeezed until he let go, "please."

Alfred gritted back a cry of pain as Ivan continued to crush his wrist. Alfred was strong: he knew that. But Ivan was also very strong, and his grip was currently crushing Alfred's arm.

Alfred brought his free arm down hard on Ivan's wrists, breaking the Russian's hold. "Don't touch me." Alfred glared and held his aching wrist at his side, refusing to allow himself to nurse it. Never show weakness in front of the enemy.

"Eh?" Came the innocent response. "I was only removing your hands. You attacked me, _da_?"

"You're the one oppressing other students to obey you!"

"That may be how you see it, but it is not how we feel. I will show you. Raivis."

The boy flinched at the sound of his name. "Y-yes, Ivan?"

"Come here."

The trembling boy rose without hesitation. Ivan beckoned him closer and, when Raivis arrived next to the two boys, placed a firm hand on his head. Alfred bristled at the sign of domination.

"Now, Raivis, tell Alfred how I invited you to join me."

"No, Raivis," The Blonde's voice was uncharacteristically serious, "tell me the truth."

The Latvian's eyes flickered uneasily between the boys. He really wanted to tell Alfred how Ivan had threatened them, but if he did, Ivan would surely punish him! "W-well, Ivan wanted our help to put on a Tchaikovsky performance, and w-we agreed." Ivan's eyes gleamed triumphantly as Raivis backed up his story. Alfred gave the small boy a defeated glance that shook Raivis to the core. He should have stood up against Ivan! Alfred was trying to help them, but he couldn't do it alone! Raivis needed to grip his freedom in his own hands!

"B-but we only agreed because he threatened us!"

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><p>If it weren't for what happened immediately after, Raivis' small burst of courage would have probably been the talk of the school for a whole week before the next story hit the gossip mill. However, his show of bravery was grossly overshadowed by the reaction of Ivan Braginsky.<p>

The normally passive aggressive boy almost seemed to snap! He shoved the Latvian to the ground with his full strength and dealt him a heavy blow to his unprotected stomach with his boot. The student body surged back in panic. They all _heard _of the things Ivan did, but none had ever seen his violence, only the result of it.

But Ivan didn't have any more of a chance to injure the gasping boy as Alfred pounced and tackled him to the ground, slamming a fist, trembling with rage, into the Russian's face.

Ivan gazed to the side in a daze. The students didn't dare breathe.

Suddenly, Ivan's purple eyes were fixed on Alfred's blue ones. As manic violet met furious cerulean, it almost seemed as if a mental war was waging. It was quickly broken off when Alfred was dragged from Ivan's body.

"Now, would someone like to tell me what's going on here?" Romulus Vargas' voice lacked its usual cheer.

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><p><strong>Uh oh. He-sa in big doodoo dis time.<strong>

**Soooo... Wadja think? I've totally been neglecting Alfred's accent, btw. Bronx accents are VERY pronounced, so hope you haven't been making him sound like normal America here. If you need to know what it kinda sounds like, watch Newsies. They're not the Bronx, but they're close enough. They basically talk really tough with alot of 'ya know' thrown in. "Dey tawk lyke dis, yanno. Don' cunfoos us wid Noo Yawk Siddy. We ain't New Yawk Siddy, yanno. We'z da Brawnks. Da best siddy in da woyld." hehe. He's not _that _bad, though. I tink New York accents are adorable.**

**I've been doing lots of research on the Bronx, and it's absolutely amazing! I'm trying to decide which neighborhood he should live in. They each have their on unique culture. So cool! **

**Also, I'm having a image problem on FF. For some reason, I can't put up an image for the cover of this. I upload the picture, but when I try to make it the cover of my story, it only shows the shadowy headshot image. I've tried this with other stories and it does the same. However, I can change my profile pic. Can anyone help? Thanks!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	17. Pay the Piper

**Thanks for waiting patiently , guys! I'm pretty much writing each chapter as I go along now, so sorry if I may end up updating late. However, I will try to update every fortnight. For your patience, I made this chapter a little longer! Sorry about the mess last time!**

**Went to prom this weekend. It was lots of fun! I'm so tired now, though. I've supervised multiple screaming toddlers for over 12 hours today with no more than an hour break. My mind is shot. **

**I also have to thank xxmagentaxcamelliaxx for her insider's info on the Bronx! Much appreciated! ****And don't worry. Last chapter wasn't the last time you'll experience Alfred's gangster side!**

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><p>As Alfred sat in the straight-backed wooden chair in the headmaster's office, he contemplated his situation. Ivan had been instantly labeled the victim as no students wished to testify against him and he had been the one punched. Now, being called into the principal's office was nothing new for Alfred. He often got into trouble in the name of justice back in his middle school days. However, this was different. He had been trying to fit in here. He didn't want to cause trouble for Uncle Charlie and Aunt Meg, and yet he had done so.<p>

The clicking of heels and rattle of a doorknob announced the arrival of his guardians. Alfred sunk guiltily in his seat at the worry etched on their faces.

"Alfred, what happened? Are you well?" Aunt Meg's voice was concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry to worry you." He mumbled, ashamed. His aunt and uncle were very busy people. No doubt they had to drop important meetings to come to the headmaster's office.

"I called you here because Alfred caused a disturbance as we were preparing for our cultural festival." Romulus Vargas' face was stony, a far cry from his usually bubbly countenance. "We have zero tolerance for fighting in this school. The victim, Ivan Braginsky, has agreed to not make a big deal of it, but if this was any other child of a diplomat, it could have turned bad."

Margaret glanced quickly at Alfred. Alfred cringed. What if Ivan used his dad and ruined the Kirklands' reputation!

"I'm really sorry." Alfred spoke up. "I won't pick fights again. But I think you should know what Ivan is doing to the students behind the scenes."

Romulus' voice was weary when he responded. "I know at least a little. I've never had proof of any foul play, and none of the students is willing to give the teachers details. We know that Ivan is a difficult and confusing individual, and Alfred?" The look in the headmaster's eyes was conflicted and worried. "Please be careful around him. No more confrontations. I know you think you're doing what's best, but I don't want you ending up in a coma or causing an international incident. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." Alfred murmured. How would he bring down Ivan, then?

"Oh, and Alfred." The boy glanced up as Romulus' voice took on a new tone. "Ask Arthur about how we settle differences here. It may give you some ideas."

Margaret and Charles apologized and thanked Mr. Vargas and, with Alfred in tow, exited the office.

"I'm really sorry you got called here." Alfred gazed down at his feet in shame.

"Though I don't approve of fighting, Alfred, don't worry about troubling us. It's not our first time being called in and won't be our last." Aunt Meg's voice was kind, though firm.

"Still," Uncle Charlie interjected, "It doesn't seem like you to pick a fight. What really happened?"

"He, like, totes saved Raivis' life!" An accented voice called out.

They turned to see a pink-clad Feliks flouncing towards them with Raivis, Eduard, and Toris in tow.

"Seriously, hon. You take this hero business pretty seriously. If that mammoth man kicked Raivis again, he could've burst right through!" The tiny Latvian cringed.

"Th-thanks Alfred." Raivis smiled, though his body was tense and flighty. "I thought I was done for."

"No, Raivis, thank _you_. It took a lot of guts to stand up to Ivan like that." Alfred beamed with pride. Raivis's smile widened, and his body relaxed. "How's the stomache?"

"It will Probably bruise, but not too badly. Hopefully, Ivan won't try anything for a while."

"He'd better not," Alfred growled, "or I'll show him there's more than a couple punches to me."

"Alfred, dear, remember we don't want you fighting?" Margaret's voice interrupted the conversation. Alfred's cheeks reddened slightly.

"Well, some things are worth fighting for."

"Awww! Alfie, you're so cute!" Feliks cheered and grabbed Alfred, spinning him around. He shot Toris the puppy eyes. "Can we keep him? Pleeaasssee?"

"Sorry, darling, but he's ours." Margaret smiled. "Alfred, since the day's almost over, won't you fetch Arthur? I have the others gathered. We're going out to eat."

"Ummm… So I'm not in trouble?" Alfred glanced up awkwardly.

"I suppose we're a little strange, taking you out for a treat after you were called to the headmaster's office, aren't we?" Charles agreed. "Hm. Well, hurry on, lad. Get Arthur."

Alfred beamed and dashed off to find his irritable cousin, as Feliks and the others dispersed.

"Oh, Charles, why must you be so coy. Just tell the boy you're proud of him for sticking up for his friend."

Uncle Charlie just chuckled. "Now that wouldn't do at all. I don't approve of violence, you know."

* * *

><p>Alfred found Arthur in the student council room, drawing up plans for the festival.<p>

"Hey, Artie. Aunt Meg and Uncle Charlie are here to take us out to dinner. They want you to come. I'm not sure why they want to celebrate me getting in trouble, but I'm not complaining."

"Ah yes," Alfred replied, "I heard about your little stunt from the students and made sure to mention the details to them. Of course, they can't outwardly applaud you, but it doesn't mean they aren't proud of you for facing such a foe."

"Heh. I guess that's true."

"Alfred," Arthur spoke after a brief silence, "What happened between you and my brother?"

Alfred glanced up quickly, a question in his eyes.

"Alistair." Arthur elaborated. "He's been strange since Monday. He's called me 'Arthur' every time he's spoken to me. He smiles at me. It's so weird. I'm afraid he's gone completely barmy. My brother has never cared for me."

"I guess he's realized what he's missing out on." Alfred remarked. "It doesn't really have anything to do with me."

"He mentioned that he talked to you, but didn't tell me what you talked about."

"Oh, just some stuff." Alfred replied vaguely. His vision drifted to the sheets scattered around. "So, any new ideas?"

Arthur sighed. Though he knew Alfred was blatantly changing the subject, he was too weary to even care. "Not many, I'm afraid. I just can't think of anything that draws all of Great Britain together." His face brightened. "I know! Do you have an outsider's view for me? What do Americans like about us?"

"Your accents, I guess." Alfred replied dubiously. "And boy bands. You could form a boy band. That'd be kinda tacky, though."

"Uuugh" Arthur threw his head in his hands. "I've been poring over this forever! I'm out of ideas!" A thoughtful pause ensued.

"Ah, hey! I got it! Monty Python!" Arthur started in surprise at Alfred's ecxlaimation.

"What?"

"Brits are famous for their dry and witty humor! You should do a compilation of Monty Python skits!"

"Brilliant!" Arthur cheered, rejuvenated. "British comedy _is _the best!"

They're pretty hilarious! I used to watch them all the time with Dad and Mattie. You _need _to do the coconut scene from _The Holy Grail _movie-"

"Who's Mattie?"

Arthur's innocent question caught Alfred off guard. He blanched. "W-what?"

"You said you 'watched them all the time with Dad and Mattie'. Who's Mattie?"

"Mattie is-" Alfred's mouth went dry, "Matthew was my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother!" Arthur's shocked voice replied.

"Y-yeah. I didn't tell Uncle Charlie. I didn't think he'd want to know."

"What happened?" Arthur queried softly.

"It-" Alfred's words were raspy as sandpaper now. His mind replayed the horrible scenes.

_nomatthewwhatareyoudoing._

"There was-"

_pleasegetthereintimepleaseiwoulddoanything._

"He was shot."

_bloodsomuchblooditneedstobeontheinside._

"I'm so sorry." Arthur's voice broke the trance. "Did you.. see it?"

_fallingfallingallfalldownineedtogethereintimeisaidiwouldalwayscatchyou._

"Heh." Alfred's laugh sounded forced. "Nah, it happened a while ago."

"Do you..blame yourself?"

"Geez, no holds barred, man!" Alfred laughed. "Why would I blame myself?"

Arthur nodded silently.

"There was nothing I could've done. What was I supposed to do? Deflect the bullet? Jump in the way?"

"I know." Arthur replied gently. "I'm sorry for your loss. If you even need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks." Alfred's smile was honest.

"Now let's get going." Arthur's voice was detached again. "That dinner won't eat itself."

* * *

><p>Outside the Student Council Room door, a blonde twirled his hair around his finger musingly.<p>

His blue eyes glinted cold as ice.

* * *

><p><strong>So there it is. Romulus was surprisingly understanding. Any thoughts on Arthur? I've found that I've grown extremely fond of him over the course of writing my story. I didn't really like Enlgand before, but I think he's become such an interesting charcter, so he's grown on me. <strong>

**Anyone wondering how they settle differences in Circle Academy? Anyone missing some charcter and waiting for me to bring him or her back? Any charcters you particularly want to see? Please shoot me a review!**

**Thanks for all your support!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	18. Friendly Encounters

**Hola Amigos! It's only been two weeks, but it feels like so much longer! I was gonna use my Memorial day weekend to write and surprise you with an early chapter, but I got sick. Poo. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. Not much happens, but we meet some new characters and prepare for the cultural festival. I listened to the Shingeki no Kyojin soundtrack while writing this. It gets my blood boiling.**

**I do not own Hetalia. Tragic, isn't it?**

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><p>Alfred's idea for the cultural festival was accepted with little argument. Not only that, but the British students latched onto the idea and improved upon it. Before long, they had decided upon a full-out tour of British entertainment and history, be it television, movies, plays, legends or books. Shakespeare, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings: The list of great British works was impressive. It was actually Owain's idea to make a British café, where the students would dress as popular literary characters.<p>

Then the students divvied out roles. Arthur was instantly cast as King Arthur, and Alfred as King Alfred the Great. The latter grumbled that _Arthur _should have been the one cast to burn the cakes and received a death glare in response.

Unfortunately, not much had changed with how Ivan was treating the Slavic students. For a whole week after their fight, however, Alfred had been the subject of much awe. Apparently, no one had stood up against Ivan and gotten away without even a rap on the knuckles. Ivan, too, treated Alfred differently. Where before he held no strong feelings for Alfred, now, behind his childish façade, his eyes burned with hate and an emotion that may, if not on Ivan, have been mistaken for fear.

Alfred sighed as he tried on his 'incognito king' costume. Over the last week, They had been busy painting sets, sewing costumes and planning refreshments. With only 2 weeks until the festival, tensions were high and students snappy. While Arthur argued with one of the tailors on the inaccuracies of his King Arthur costume, Alfred glanced through his script. Each character would work in the café, serving tables. However, they would each have a small part to play in the entertainment as well. Aside from performing _The Merchant of Venice_ and some Monty Python skits, they would each recite a few lines pertaining to their character and the guests would fill in a questionnaire and whomever correctly placed all the characters would win a prize.

"He that hath failed in a little thing

Hath a sign upon his brow;

And the Earls of the Great Army

Have no such seal to show.

This Blow that I return not

Ten times will I return

On kings and earls of all degree,

And armies wide as empires be

Shall slide like landships to the sea

If the red star burn."

"It appears you're ready." Arthur leaned against the wall in full scarlet and gold, Excalibur sheathed at his side.

"Geez. Why do you get to look like a King but I'm in rags?" Alfred pouted.

"It's historically accurate, of course." Arthur sniffed. "Alfred was defeated and wandering around in rags, his army scattered."

"Well he defeated the Danes didn't he?" Alfred defended. To have his namesake looked down on didn't sit well with him.

"No one defeats the Danes!" A jubilant shout echoed down the hallway and Alfred turned to see a blonde with spiky hair. He was dressed like a Viking and carrying an axe. Next to him stood a smaller, placid boy with platinum hair and dull blue eyes.

"Lukas!" Arthur greeted the smaller boy with a smile. "You're back from Norway!"

"Ah, yes." The boy replied in an emotionless tone. "My family is so annoying. It is good to see you, Arthur."

"_Hej_, Lukey! Why didn't you say that to me when you saw me?" Lukas' companion whined, his blue eyes filling with tears.

"Because its not true with you, Matthias." Lukas replied coldly without batting an eyelash.

"Luuuukeee!" Matthias clung to his smaller companion. "How could you say that to your best friend?"

"Who's your friend, idiot." Annoyance crept into the Norwegian's voice. He grabbed Matthias' throat and began to strangle him, face blank.

"Ahem." Arthur interrupted. "As touching as this is, I'd like to introduce you to my cousin, Alfred Jones. Alfred, These two are Matthias Køhler and Lukas Bondevik. Don't mind how they act. They've been friends for years."

Alfred cheerily greeted them, ignoring Lukas' mumbled 'like I said, who's friends?'

Matthias, who was pouting and nursing his wounded pride, suddenly snapped to atttention again. "It's nice to meet you and all, but now to get to the important stuff." His blue eyes were serious and determined.

"Danes never lose."

His declaration was met with an incredulous silence.

"Uhh, you _do _know Alfred the Great beat Guthrum, right? Sorry, man. But it's in the history books."

"The books are wrong! The English changed the accounts of what really happened!" Matthias argued. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'the winners write the history books'?"

"Dude. You _literally _just admitted that Alfred won."

"Hah. You can't prove anything! Did you take an audiorecording? Didn't think so!"

"I did." A boy dressed like Sherlock Holmes stepped up. At their surprised stares, he elaborated. "I knew Køhler was involved and such an argument would probably ensue, due to his undying patriotism. I thought physical evidence of whatever he said may be useful. Elementary."

Alfred laughed. This festival was going to be awesome.

* * *

><p>Matthias easily convinced Alfred to take a break and wander the school grounds with him. He very quickly forgot his earlier squabble with the American and proceeded to ask him a million questions about New York and American culture. Arthur and Lukas were reluctantly dragged along.<p>

"So what's with Americans asking "How're you doing" and "How's your day" all the time but not actually caring to listen to the answer?"

"Well, I guess it's polite to ask how people are, but we don't want to hear a downer like 'Yeah, my day sucked. First, I woke up and my blanket wasn't covering my feet so they were cold and then I ran out _ymer _so I had to eat cornflakes for breakfast, only they were stale. Then when I was walking to work it started to rain and my socks got wet and then i was a minute late. Then my favorite pen ran out of ink so I had to finish my paperwork with an inferior pen and it took me so long that I missed my coffee break and now I can't find a store that carries pickled herring...' blah blah blah. I mean, that's a real downer. 'Fine, thanks' or 'It could be worse' would be just fine."

"That's really superficial." Matthias retorted.

"Whatever." Alfred shrugged.

"If he gets annoying," Lukas interrupted tonelessly, "you can punch him."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I can't." Alfred laughed awkwardly.

"Why not." If Lukas was joking, Alfred couldn't tell. He was saved from having to answer when he was tackled from behind.

"Alfred!" A voice cheered into his ear.

"Peter. What's up?" Alfred craned his neck to look at the smaller boy perched on his back.

"Are you looking at the progress? Amazing, isn't it?" Peter beamed as he surveyed the stalls and gazebos being constructed around them. They were all in varying stages of completion, and students bustled around, clear purpose written on their faces.

"A-ah. Peter." A soft voice called out at Alfred's elbow and he turned to see a little blonde girl dressed in a fairy costume, bells tied at her slender ankles.

"Hey, Lili! This is Alfred, my cousin. Isn't he cool and tall?" Peter grinned at the girl.

"N-nice to meet you, Alfred." The small girl blushed. "I am Lili Zwingli."

"Lili's my best friend. She's from Switzerland, but she didn't want to be a part of a boring stock and banking seminar they're hosting, so I invited her to join our group!"

"You can't just invite people to join!" Arthur scowled at Peter.

"Why not?" Peter shot back. "You invited Alfred and he's not British!"

Arthur didn't have an answer, so he settled on glaring at Peter, drawing his formidable eyebrows over his eyes, succeeding only at intimidating Lili.

Alfred noticed her discomfort and encouraged a conversation. "So, what's your character, Lili?"

"W-well. I guess I only make sense if I'm with Peter." Said boy clambered off Alfred's back and stood next to Lili. Alfred surveyed his green outfit and slight pointed hat. Robin Hood? He glanced at the little fairy.

"Oh! You're Peter Pan and Tinkerbell!" He exclaimed. At Lili's shy nod, he smiled. "You make a great fairy. And Peter, you're playing Peter! Haha. That's funny that all three of us are gonna be playing people with the same names!" Peter laughed along with him.

"Ah," A cheerful voice broke in, "fancy meeting you here!"

"Tino! Berwald!" Alfred beamed. "It's been a while."

"_Hej_, Tino, Berwald!" Matthias cheered. "Wait," he turned to Alfred in confusion, "how do you know them?"

"They pointed me toward class on my first day. How do you know them?"

"Hah! All Scandinavians know each other!" Matthias declared, nose in the air. "Don't underestimate us."

"It's okay to hit him."

* * *

><p>Gentle fingers caressed yellow petals. The dark room hid the small act of innocence, as he wanted it to.<p>

A voice, oozing with charm invaded the calm atmosphere.

"I may know something that may interest you."

* * *

><p><strong>Lol. I love how Lukas offers Matthias as a punching bag. Love those two! So we met some nw characters. Any thoughts?<strong>

**The poem that Alfred recited is part of The Ballad of The White Horse by G.K. Chesterton, a story of King Alfred the Great's growth into a king who could defeat the Danes. It's really beautiful. In the lines I showed, he's talking about when he was asked by a peasant woman to watch the cakes she was baking and she would share with him. He was in disguise, so she didn't know who he was. He let the cakes burn, so she hit him. It helped him become humble.**

**K, so, cultural references. The question Matthias asks is a common question Scandinavians, epecially Danes have. They think we're superficial for asking people how they are and not expecting more than a "Fine, thanks. How are you?" I mean, it gets old, but it's just what we say. (I usually say 'dandy' or 'swell'. People think it's funny.) **

**Likewise, we find it very gloomy when they tell us how miserable their day has been.**

**Ymir is sour milky stuff. Pickled herring is, like, Denmark's national food or something. Because Scandinavia and the World is the best reference.**

**Thanks for your support! Please leave a review. I will be back in a fortnight!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	19. Cruel Relations

**So sorry this chapter is short! It's been insane lately, and I haven't had time to write. I promise I'll work harder! **

**This chapter is mainly inspired by a bouquet of sunflowers I saw in the store and my sister's hair. She lets it down and shakes it around when I need inspiration, and it reminded me of crazy Belarus, so here ya go.**

* * *

><p>Natalya Arlovsky watched as the sea of students parted before her. They always did. They found her intimidating or something. She scoffed. Well, if they didn't bother her brother, she wouldn't have to threaten them.<p>

Her heart pounded at the thought of her brother. Ivan was so perfect. He was sweet and kind and handsome and strong. If only he would look at her, she could be happy.

"Miss Natalya!" A cheery voice broke through. Her teeth gritted at the sound. And if only _he _would leave her alone!

"Miss Natalya!" The person had clearly been running to catch her, as she caught the breathlessness in his voice. "How is your day so far, Miss Natalya? You're looking very pretty today. Would you like to-"

"Shut up." She hissed murderously, turning her cold eyes to him. "I want nothing to do with you, Toris. If you try to get close to me, I'll break your fingers again."

Toris winced. That had really hurt. He settled his gaze on Natalya. In a word, she was stunning. Her long platinum hair feel straight down her back. Her skin was the color and texture of porcelain, and her eyes shone a deep indigo. She held herself like a princess and dressed in refined and elegant clothing. If only she was as kind as she was beautiful.

Toris sighed and tried to start another conversation. "Miss Natalya, are you going to visit Ivan?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"He is not in a very good mood right now. I think it would be best to leave him-"

"How would you know what's best for him?" Natalya growled. "He is my brother, and I will take care of him. You only give him trouble. Leave him alone!"

She turned and stormed away, leaving the morose Toris behind her.

"I'll be waiting, Natalya."

* * *

><p>Francis slowly paced before the door to Ivan's dorm room. He wasn't exactly having second doubts, but he couldn't hold down the slight feeling of shame. Alfred was annoying, and Francis wanted him out of the way, but would it really be alright to tell Ivan what he overheard? It seemed so <em>wrong <em>to use the boy's past against him. And yet, it was the only way to get to him. Francis choked out a laugh. Since when did he think these things? It was just that when things fell in the category of love, he never really knew what to do.

"What are you doing in front of my brother's room." A cold voice cut into his reverie.

"Ah, Natalya, _mon cher. _You are looking quite _belle _this lovely day."

"Don't give me that. I hate you, and you know it. You're here for a reason. What is it?"

"Ah, well. I just have a little information that might be interesting to your brother." Francis shifted his voice to a nonchalant tone. This was _perfect_. He preferred not to get his own hands dirty anyway. Now if she _happened _to tell her brother what he passed on to her, who could blame _him_?

Yet, even so, a little part of him hated himself.

* * *

><p>"<em>Brat<em>, are you in here? Ivan?" Natalya peeked into the dimness of her brother's dorm room. Instantly, her eyes alighted on Ivan, laying on his bed.

"Ivan. It has been a while, _brat. _How are you doing? I have just returned from visiting _mat _and _otets_. They are wondering how you are doing. No word has come from _sestra _yet. _Mat _made some _syrniki _for you, just how you like it."

"Natalya."

Her name in Ivan's voice paused her to stop. She flushed a deep crimson. Was Ivan going to speak to her? "Yes, _brat_?"

"I am not your brother. That woman is not my mother. You are not my sister. Remember this."

A lump formed in Natalya's throat. Why did he have to be so cruel? She only wanted to make him happy! If only he would let her love him, she would make him the happiest man in the world. He would never feel lonely again!

"I am sorry, _bra-_ Ivan." She managed to keep her voice under control. "I only wanted to tell you some news that you may find useful."

Ivan turned to her and she glanced away from his violet eyes. "I hear you have been having trouble with Alfred Jones." She acknowledged the twitch she received as a response. "He has a weakness that I have heard from a reliable source. His brother was shot a while ago, and he seems to take some blame. If you could use this-"

"I understand." Ivan's voice was cold.

Natalya blinked in surprise. Was that all? Was it too much to ask for some thanks? "Ivan? Is something wrong?"

"Do you think I would tell you?"

"If only you'd let me, I could listen to everything you want to say. I will always be here for you. Please, _brat_-"

"Natalya. I am not your brother." Ivan's eyes were cold as ice. "I will never love you, so give up. Nor do I like the idea of using the memory of a loved one to manipulate my enemy. Your help is unwanted. Leave."

* * *

><p>Natalya didn't really remember running from the room, not did she know how she ended up sobbing in an secluded pavilion. The soft arm around her shoulder and the gentle reassurances in a familiar voice were her only anchors. It wasn't the first time this had happened and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Though she would never acknowledge his presence in her life, Natalya knew there was no one she could rely on in moments like these.<p>

Toris knew this was all he was to her. And yet he was happy.

* * *

><p><strong>Sory it's so short! I feel really bad! <strong>

**otets-father**

**mat-mother**

**brat-brother**

**sestra-sister**

**syrniki- some tastly looking food.**

**So this chapter has a little one-sided LietBel. I kinda ship it, though I ship AmeBel harder. Though this story won't be AmeBel. Sorry.**

**Please leave a review! Thanks for all your support, guys!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	20. A Common Loss

**Hey Guys! I'm sooo thankful for the over 100 views! Thanks so much! It's a huge accomplishment for me! I made this chapter extra long and I really love it.**

**One thing I needed to say. So I went to a party with my future college classmates. It was in Lancaster AKA Amish town. Funny ting is, We passed a sign that said Ludwig St. right next to a sign for Gilbertsville. Then. later, I passed a sign for King of Prussia. I felt like it was fate, so I unexpectedly wrote about the brothers in this chapter. **

**I also saw five horse-and-buggys and about 20 Amish women on bycicles happily going along on a highway. It was funny. I love those people.**

**I thank my sister's awesome henna talent and the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack fo helping me through this chapter!**

* * *

><p>Ludwig sighed as he bent down to pick up the 4th gravure magazine he'd found lying on the floor that day. As a general rule, his brother was very cleanly. It ran in the family. But when it came to his magazines, he tended to leave them all around.<p>

Ludwig carefully shielded his eyes as he stuffed the porn under the bed where he knew Gilbert kept the rest of them.

"_Kesesese_." The hissing laughter startled him. "You're such a prude, West!" Gilbert widened the doors of the walk-in closet and stepped out, camera in hand. "And I thought I'd finally catch you doing something 'improper'."

Ludwig sighed, brushing his already impeccably combed hair back and glaring at his older brother with steel blue eyes. "_Bruder_, it is most inappropriate that you have these magazines in the first place. You are still underage, as am I. For you to try to trick me into looking at them-"

"Aw, West, knock it off." Gilbert pouted, plopping onto his bed. "It was just a little fun. I wanted to catch you in the act of reading them and show it off to Toni and Francis. We've been trying to get you to let loose since forever!"

"Gilbert, I will never be like you. Stop trying." Ludwig smiled lightly at his brother's glare. "Did you check our mailbox?"

"Nah. We never get anything interesting."

"Well, maybe you should've, _Bruder_. We got a letter."

"From _Mutti _and _Vatti_?"

"_Nein_. From America."

"Who do we know in-" Realization dawned on Gilbert's features as well as shock. It was quickly replaced with cold apathy. "_Nein_. I won't read it. I don't care what he has to say."

His voice rose to counter his brother's response. "I _refuse_, Ludwig. He thinks he can just abandon us and leave for _gottverdammt _America and be forgiven so easily? He hasn't written in years. What right does he have to write now?"

"Gilbert, I miss him too." Ludwig replied quietly. " I'm angry as well. But I'm sure he had a reason: one that we can't understand. Maybe we will someday. And maybe," He placed a firm but gentle hand on his brother's trembling shoulder, "if we wait for him, he will return to us." He lay a stiff envelope in his brother's lap and exited the room, gently closing the door.

Gilbert glared at the curling script on the parchment. He knew the scrolling cursive by heart and had always admired it. Now he loathed it and the painfully familiar words it read.

_Mein Kleine Kämpfer_

He proceeded to stare at the words, an aching in his heart.

He ignored the tiny wet drops that fell, marring the ink.

* * *

><p>"Wait, so why doesn't he just blast the guy with a <em>raikiri <em>while he's monologueing? He's distracted and off-guard. A real ninja would take the chance."

Instead of going directly home after classes as he normally would, Alfred stayed behind at school that Tuesday. He had orchestra practice for the school's festival. The preparations were going smoothly and all students were enjoying themselves fully, so he wasn't worried about the outcome. So when Kiku, who played the _semisen _in the orchestra, pulled him aside after practice and invited him into his room for a "cultural entertainment exchange" he immediately agreed. It was surprisingly easy to find American comics in the massive library on campus, and Kiku had all the manga he needed in his room. The only difficulty was convincing Arthur to let him stay. After Alfred's many reassurances that he would be fine and a phone call to Aunt Meg to inform her of the last-minute sleepover in Kiku's dorm, Arthur finally relented and with a comment on Kiku's trustworthiness that sounded vaguely like a threat, left the boys to their comics.

Kiku glanced over his _Captain America_ issue at Alfred who lay sprawled on the carpet of the room, surrounded by volumes of _Naruto. _"Naturally, it is unrealistic. The ninja would already know all these techniques, so they would not need to explain them. And they would not want their enemy to know their secrets. But _we _need those explanations and back-stories to understand what is going on." The Japanese boy explained.

"I guess that's true." Despite his skepticism of the realism of _Naruto_, he really was enjoying it. He felt himself getting sucked into the story, and he and Kiku shared a companionable silence as they read. Before they knew it, many hours had passed.

"We should probably turn in for the night, Alfred-_kun_." Kiku suggested after Alfred's 15th yawn. Alfred glanced at the clock. 1:30. Yeah. They had school in the morning. Ugh.

Alfred changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. Kiku slipped on a light _yukata_.

"Why do you always dress so traditionally?" Alfred queried as he lay out a blanket and pillow in the floor next to Kiku's bed. "I wouldn't think a really technologically savvy family would care for the traditional stuff."

"My father is very up to the times," Kiku agreed, "But my mother was very traditional. She always wore _kimono _around the house and cooked traditional food. She was a very gentle woman."

"Was?"

"She passed away when I was young." Kiku padded over to a small cabinet and opened it. Inside was a plate of _sushi_, the remains of an incense stick and a framed picture. Kiku knelt and bowed to the image, gesturing Alfred over. Alfred reverently joined the Japanese boy on his knees. He couldn't help but feel awe as he viewed the small shrine and watched Kiku pray and light incense.

Mr. Yamamoto had often done the same for his own little shrine which contained many pictures: a black and white photo of a man in military clothes and a gently smiling wife, A laughing woman in a white kimono and a blurry photo of a child in a cradle. Those were the moments when Alfred left him to mourn and sat by himself on the _tatami _pondering the similarities between people and wondering how they could ever kill each other.

"She had a very weak body and fought disease for a very long time." Kiku gently caressed the photo of his mother, a kind-looking woman with straight black hair and soft eyes. "But after giving birth to me, she gradually grew weaker and weaker. Eventually, she wasted away to nothing. I was five at the time."

"I'm sorry." Alfred murmured. He knew he couldn't really comfort his friend. It wasn't something he could fix. "I feel ya, man. My mom died too."

Kiku turned slightly moist eyes to Alfred and replaced his mother's picture in the shrine. "My condolences. How did she die?"

A million false answers flashed though Alfred's mind, but he pushed them down. Kiku had opened up to him, and it was probably very difficult for the reserved boy. He deserved the same honesty he had so willingly given.

"She killed herself.

Kiku's head jerked toward him and though his face remained impassive, his eyes betrayed his shock.

"I returned from work one day and found her bleeding out on the floor. I called paramedics, but it was too late. She wanted to die, and there was no way I could convince her to keep fighting. She was a weak woman.

Still, she was my mom and I'll always love her."

"I am very sorry for your loss." Kiku gently replied. "Thank you for telling me."

Alfred laughed, lightening the mood. "Is it just me or did we just open up a lot for the first sleepover we had?"

"_Hai_." Kiku's expression froze, "_Shitsureshimasu_. I stepped out of line. I apologize."

Alfred laughed, slapping the Japanese boy on the back. "Hey, don't worry about it, man! It's good to open up to people. And It's nice that we have someone to talk to about this stuff if we need to. Now that I think about it, it's really easy to talk about deep stuff late at night. Hey, what do you think is the meaning of our existence?"

Kiku found no problem keeping up with Alfred's pace, for some reason. He never thought he and the American would kick it off so well, but it's not like he was going to question it too much.

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><p>Ivan stared up at the corner of his ceiling. At the beginning of the school year, he had painted a small sunflower there and whenever he was going through any emotional turmoil he stared at it. It calmed him.<p>

"_I may know something that may interest you." _

He clenched his fist. He hated Francis and his sneaky, manipulative ways. He'd instantly turned the French boy away when he came to Ivan with his information. He wasn't some chess piece in their game. He wouldn't help them manipulate others like puppets. And yet, apparently Francis had passed the message on to Natalya. So Alfred had lost a brother. It _was _useful information and yet-

No! How could he ever use that to control someone. Family ties are sacred things. When one had them, that is. When those ties were lost, the pain was so overwhelming and unbearable. He could never use Alfred's family against him. That would be stooping too low.

Ivan gazed at the yellow painted petals of the sunflower.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to see sunflowers in his mind, as he had first seen them.

Large bunches overflowing from baskets. Surrounding him, drowning him as he runs through endless fields. And yet he isn't afraid. A hand clasped in his and golden petals reflected in shining, blue-green eyes reassure him and keep him safe. In the wanderings of his mind, he distantly feels a warm liquid sliding down his face.

He dismisses it. Time with _Sestra_ is more important.

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><p><strong>gottverdammt- gaddamned<strong>

**Mein Kleine Kampfer- My little soldier/warrior**

**Shitsureshimasu-Excuse me/Sorry for the trouble**

**So there you go. What do you think? I made three usually reserved characters cry. Hmm. Strange.**

**I'm suuuper excited fo the 4th of July. It's my favorite holiday. Have an awesome 4th guys!**

**Stay cool! Seriously. With this humidity, it'll be hard.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	21. Confessions

**Heyaz! I hope you guys had an awesome 4th! I saw amazing fireworks, which inspired the beginning of this chapter. **

**Also, I tease Alfred in this chapter a bit. I don't know where that came from.**

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><p>Fireworks.<p>

Alfred used to love them. On his birthday, he would sit on his apartment's fire escape and watch the bright lights blossoming in the sky. He loved the sound. He loved the smell. He loved the sight. He liked to pretend they were for him, even though Matthew always told him that it was for America's birthday, not theirs.

Yet here he was, flinching as the celebratory festival fireworks went off. They were beautiful. But he hated them. They only reminded him of what he lost.

The final preparations for the festival went off without a hitch, and now looking at it, it was hard to believe it had been still in production just a week before. Booths of vendors and attractions lined the courtyard, and signs for various club and organization stalls littered every tree and pole.

People of all ages and races milled about in the courtyard and in the school. Alfred guessed that many were family members of students, but that there were plenty of visitors scouting out the school. He walked the halls, surveying the many tables. As he passed the 'Passion for Fashion' club display, he was unexpectedly attacked from behind.

"Alfieee!"

"Ack! Feliks, what are you doing?" Alfred struggled to hold up the blonde who had pounced on his back. "Get off, you're gonna crush me!"

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Feliks gasped.

"Uh, no. But you're not that small and you're not even trying to distribute your weight. Seriously, man."

Feliks laughed and climbed off Alfred. His outfit was very frilly and colorful, but at least it was pants, so Alfred overlooked it. "Hey, Alfie, I want you to meet my parents Jakub and Zuzanna Lukasiewicz. _Mamo_, _Tato_, this is Alfie."

Alfred extended his hand first to Feliks' father, and then his mother. They were both tall and fair and had kind faces. "I'm Alfred F. Jones. Nice to meet you."

"Alfred," Zuzanna clasped his hand. "The pleasure is ours. We have heard so much of you from Feliks. You have been a good friend to him. Thank you."

"No prob." Alfred laughed. "He's the one who's been helping me."

"Speaking of which, I have some clothes I want you to try on. Feliks told me your sizes and I have been dying to dress you up." An unholy gleam entered Zuzanna's eyes. "You do not mind, yes?"

Alfred gulped, as he saw no way to escape.

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><p>"I'm telling you, man, I was <em>forced <em>into it!"

"Don't worry, Alfred, I won't judge you. If this is what you enjoy doing, how could I take it away from you?"

"Seriously, dude. Believe me! I tried to get away, but she was too fast for me! And I swear that camara-ninja was hiding around the corner taking pictures!"

"No need to defend yourself, old chap. Is there something else you'd like to come out with while we're at it? Surely, your relationship with Kiku isn't purely platonic. You did stay the night, after all. And I happen to know he has a thing for servitude."

"Dammit, dude! Shut up!"

Arthur was having way too much fun with this.

He had been passing by a relatively closed off hallway when he heard a whimper from one of the classrooms. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he saw when he opened the door.

Alfred stood awkwardly in front of him with a face as bright as the tiny, pink maid dress he wore. White silk stockings and a lacy white apron completed the outfit.

"Stop laughing at me!" Frustrated tears filled Alfred's unwilling eyes, and he blinked them back. That crazy lady had dragged him into this room and forced him into this dress and disappeared with his real clothes with nothing more than a 'be right back~'. He had to get out of here! "I swear, man. I need your help! The she-devil's coming back and I don't want to be here when she does!"

Arthur stifled his laughter. "Alright, alright. I'll help you. It's not the first time this has happened. In fact, it's almost like a right of initiation. She doesn't accept you until she dresses you up."

Alfred stopped trying to pull his hem down and stared at Arthur. "So… it happened to you, too?"

"Well, then!" Arthur cleared his throat decisively. "Let's see about getting you some clothes."

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><p>When Alfred was once more appropriately dressed, Arthur joined him in perusing the halls of Circle Academy for any interesting displays. The Brit pointed out various influential people he spotted as well as their classmates' parents. Alfred listened absentmindedly, munching on a giant sausage he'd found at a German food stall and some churros he'd bought at a Spanish booth. Sufficed to say, he was feeling content. Now if only someone was grilling burgers-<p>

"Alfred! Are you even listening to me?"

Alfred ceased his roving eyes and focused on Arthur's glaring face. "Um, yeah. I was totally listening."

"As I was saying," Arthur huffed in annoyance, "That man over there with Francis is his father, Louis Bonnefoy, prime minister of France." Alfred glanced over at the middle aged Frenchman, who was shaking hands with another sharply dressed man. Prime Minister Bonnefoy was shorter than Francis, and had dark hair and a moustache. His sharp features stood out against his face, and his eyes were dark and beady. All-in-all, he looked nothing like his son. Francis stood beside his father, a charming smile plastered on his face.

"Is that his mom?" Alfred pointed to the beautiful brunette hanging off Louis' arm. He crinkled his nose. "She looks kinda young."

"That's Mr. Bonnefoy for you." Arthur snorted. "He's a playboy. I've never seen the same woman with him twice. They're all young and beautiful and obviously in it for the money. Francis' mother was the same, no doubt. After giving birth, she ditched him with his dad and hasn't been seen since."

"That sucks. Poor guy." Alfred nodded sympathetically.

"Yes, well, his father isn't all bad. He's nice enough, though a little stiff and stern." Arthur sniffed, disinclined to feel anything other than loathing for Francis. "It couldn't have been awful to be raised by him."

"I guess that's true." Alfred nodded as they turned away and followed the signs advertising the art show. "He didn't turn out too bad."

Arthur just rolled his eyes at his cousin's naiveté. He'd figure it out sooner or later.

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><p>Alfred was not an artsy person. He never had been. Matthew was the twin in charge of the art projects, while Alfred did the math homework. It had been a pretty solid routine. And yet now, as Alfred stared at the walls upon walls of colorful canvas, he honestly wished he could create such beauty. Not that middle school art would have gotten him very far.<p>

While Arthur glanced the pieces over with a practiced eye, explaining the brushstrokes, types of paint, and artists used for inspiration, Alfred gaped in awe of the pure talent gathered in just one room of one division of a massive school. It was moments like these when he felt the true difference between himself and the other students. It was like they lived in their own world of achievement and culture, while he was far below them, merely chasing something that could never be.

"Alfred!" Feliciano bounded toward him, waving cheerily.

"Hey!" Alfred smiled. "Haven't seen you in a while!"

"_Veee_~" The Italian sighed, his eyes squinted closed, as usual. "I've been so very busy with my art. This show is very important for us aspiring artists."

"You want to be an artist?" Alfred beamed. "That's so cool!" He had spent much time with Lovino, but he barely knew anything about Feliciano.

"_Si!_ Many famous artist and critics come to this school's cultural fest to view our work. If we're very fortunate, we may get an apprenticeship!" Feliciano's smile widened at the thought. "Many collectors like to buy our pieces as well."

Alfred gaped. "Serious, man? That's awesome! So," He turned his head from side to side, viewing the paintings around him, "which one's yours?"

"Over here, _ve_." He led Alfred and Arthur to the end of the hall where a small crowd of people surrounded a single canvas. It wasn't all that large, compared to some of the others, but as Alfred followed Feliciano closer and the crowd parted to give the artist some space, his breath hitched.

He had roamed the halls of the Met. New York had countless galleries and museums, but foremost in prestige was the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Decorated artist from all cultures and times had work displayed on the walls and he would wander the massive building taking them all in. And yet, never before had he truly felt Art more than he did right now.

Warm and cool shades of browns made of the majority of the painting. In the painting, a young boy, not much older than ten, stood alone in a small wooden hallway, shrouded in shadow. He wore a simple white button-up shirt and brown slacks, smudges of paint on his clothing and tan skin. Some even seemed to work its way into his shining brown hair. His small body was taut with underlying emotion, his arms stiff at his sides and his jaw set.

But what haunted Alfred were the eyes. An unusual and somehow familiar gold color, they bore into the soul of the viewer. Laced with disappointment, rage, and heartbreak, those golden orbs burned through the canvas. Yet the emotion that took precedence was even more disturbing: _Resignation_. The dark hallway, foreboding and offering no way of escape for the tortured child, added to the overall despairing sense in the piece.

In the boy's clenched fist was a crumpled piece of parchment.

"Mr. Vargas," The professional tone made Alfred draw his eyes from the painting and toward the classily dressed woman holding a small notebook and a pen. "We are all very impressed by your oil painting. Your brushwork is exquisite and the color scheme is perfect. But most importantly, and I believe I'm speaking for all of us here, " she sent a cursory glance at the other sharply dressed adults around her, "the emotion you convey through this painting is stunning. We can't help but feel drawn to it." Others around her nodded, conveying their affirmation. "You don't give this painting a title. Why is that?"

"_Ve_, I didn't think it needed one." Feliciano replied.

"What are you trying to say through this piece? I think we all received some sort of message, but I'd like to know the official one." A man spoke up.

"_Si_, I'd like you to make your own conclusions, but, well," Feliciano paused slightly and then continued in a softer tone, "It's an image I have in my head. I probably always will, _ve. _I don't remember what exactly happened, but I think it was my fault. It caused someone important to me a lot of pain. I don't think he ever forgave me, but I didn't realize what I'd done at the time." The surrounding people watched in silence as the young artist's eyes filled with tears. "I just wish there was something I could do to make it right. Sometimes, we can do things so very cruel without knowing it, and it can hurt others inside so that they may never heal. I wanted to convey that."

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><p>It was only that evening, when he was eating pasta and sauce with the Kirklands that Alfred realized why those eyes were so familiar.<p>

They belonged to Lovino.

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><p><strong>How'd ya likee? <strong>

**Hehe. wanna take a guess at how Arthur was dressed by Zuzanna?**

**As always, thanks so much for the support! Please review! _Arrivaderci!_**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	22. What is Lost

**I'm so sorry this chapter is half the length it should be. It's been a crazy week. A funeral, a birthday, and engagement, and heartbreaking goodbye all at once. I'm feeling rather taxed. Still, hopefully I'll get another chapter out on the 4th as an apology for this one.**

**I'm updating today because I'm leaving for New York tomorrow and will probably be without wifi for most of it. I'm really excited! I've never been to New York, and I hope to get a lot of inspiration for this story!**

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><p>Francis stared unblinking at the rain dashing down the windows in rivulets. As expected of England, the weather was unpredictable and unattractive. If only he were in his own beautiful country!<p>

He looked down at the people scurrying below, looking for cover from the downpour. They looked like little insects rushing pell-mell about, employed in keeping busy, before their lives were cut short by a ill-timed boot.

"Why, hello."

Francis turned disinterestedly to see his father's latest fling walking toward him. Like all the others, she was beautiful and young, mid-twenties, perhaps. Her hair shone and her eyes were a lustrous green. Her lips were plump and her lightly clad form curvaceous. All in all, she was stunning.

Francis hated her.

He turned back to the window.

"Your father's told be much about you."

Francis held back a snort of contempt. His father didn't even know his favorite food. What could he have possibly told her?

"Your father is a wonderful man." _Dieu_. Was she not done talking yet? Perhaps it was about time he explained a thing or two.

"Miss… I don't know your name, and frankly, don't care. I think there are a couple matters I need to clear up. First, I have seen more women come and go than I can count. Father isn't serious about any of them, and he wasn't serious about my mother. He'll never care deeply for anyone in his life, I don't doubt. You are no different, so if you actually want his affection, I suggest you leave now. He doesn't give it. Not to anyone."

The woman smiled.

"Of course," Francis continued, not the least bit perturbed, "If you're in it for the money, you're doing just as you should. Let him buy you some expensive things and then you can leave."

"Oh dear." The woman's face looked at him with pity. "I don't think you quite understand my reason for being here. You see," She slid her shawl off, revealing bare shoulders and a plunging neckline, "I'm not after your father."

Francis sighed inwardly as he approached her, her eyes smoldering beneath dark lashes. It wasn't the first time and it would be the last. He would play along with this charade.

After all, he wasn't losing anything.

There was nothing _to _lose.

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><p>Alfred made his rounds in the café.<p>

All about him, various costumed students took orders from the customers. They had been kept busy all day, which attested to the popularity of their display. The customers enjoyed the live comedy performances and the character quiz.

But after delivering the 100th 'Earl Grey Tea, please' in one hour, he was seriously considering making good his previous threat of The Boston Tea Party re-enactment. So he traded off with Beowulf and sat back with a cup of coffee and watched the two actors, one with a fake blue bird in his hand, debate over whether the parrot was dead or not.

"This parrot is no more! He's ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace!"

Alfred laughed uproariously with the audience. The comedians were terrific and thier timing excellent. Alfred felt a melancholy come over him. His dad loved this skit. Every time he watched it, he'd throw his head back, eyes squinted shut, and let out a booming laugh. His eyes would twinkle and he'd ruffle Alfred's hair whenever the young boy quoted a sketch.

Would he never be able to laugh without thinking of his dad? Would he be haunted by the ghosts of his past his whole life?

Suddenly, the cheerful, laughing crowd was too much. It only deepened the aching in his heart for a time when he could have laughed along without any guilt.

He slipped out the door of the café and found an empty classroom where he stayed for the rest of the day.

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><p><strong>Once again, I'm really sorry for The shortness. I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.<strong>

**The Monty Python sketch is called Dead Parrot. It's hilarious.**

**As always, Thank you so much for your support. It's very humbling, yet uplifting at the same time.**

**I'll be back soon!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	23. Stand in the Rain

**Hey friends! **

**I had an absolutely amazing vacation! NY is so awesom and I had an amazing time! Newsies was beyond epic and I loved walking around on the streets. Despite the perverted men. And the fake homeless guys. And the foul mouthed angry dude. And the old lady who couldn't speak English babbling away at us. I think she wanted us to buy her pizza, but I'm not sure.**

**Question: For anyon that lives in a major city, especially outside of the U.S. Is there such a wide range of languages and cultures everywhere? I probably only heard English spoken in Manhattan 25% of the time a I wandered the streets. In the Bronx, I only heard Spanish. I've never seen to many races in one place in my life and it was amazing. Am I just being a country bumpkin or is it right to be surprised?**

**Thanks so much for your wonderful and supportive reviews. I don't deserve them.**

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><p>Lovino gazed up at the ceiling through the darkness. Even in the deep recesses of the corridors, far from the festivities and cheer, he could still hear the murmur of voices and low pulse of movement. It only added to the pounding of his skull.<p>

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><p>"You understand, right, Lovi?" The tall man with brown hair smiled at him and patted his hair. "Feliciano is much younger and I need to keep him close. I will leave you in good hands. You trust me, right?"<p>

Lovino felt his lip wobbling and he clenched his eyes against the onslaught of tears. He hadn't known Nonno for long, but he already knew that this man was the only one left to care about him. Mama and Papa went away. That's what the people in white coats said. He wouldn't see them again. He tried to remember Mama's laugh and the way Papa would swing him into the air and rest him on his broad shoulders. But that was long ago. Before the baby was born. He barely remembered their faces now.

He didn't notice he was crying until he felt Nonno rubbing his back with his large hands and shushing him softly.

"You are a big boy, Lovino. You can take care of yourself for a bit. Feliciano is still a baby. I must watch him at my home."

"Why can't I come?" He wiped at his eyes with chubby fists.

"Because Nonno is very busy. I will come back for you very soon. I will never leave you. Do you believe me?"

Lovino nodded, and was comforted by the large man's proud smile and 'good boy'. Nonno wasn't like Mama or Papa. He would never forget Lovino or replace him. He would wait patiently like the big, older brother he was.

He flung his arms around Nonno and placed a kiss on his cheek, watching as his grandfather lifted a sleeping Feliciano and disappeared through the doorway.

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><p>A sliver of light cut through the darkness and he winced.<p>

"_Fratello_?" Damn. Could he not have some quiet, for once?

"Lovino, are you in here?" Feliciano blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark interior of the classroom. A groan from within confirmed his guess. He stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him, and fumbled towards the source of the sound.

Lovino scowled at his brother, concentrating all his irritation into his stare, despite his aching head, and felt a momentary burst of triumph when Feliciano lowered his gaze.

"What the hell are you doing here."

"I was looking for you. I haven't seen you all day. We've been wondering where you went."

"Nobody cares where I went or what I'm doing. Stop lying, dammit!"

Feliciano felt tears welling in his eyes but held them back. This wasn't about him right now. Lovino was what mattered.

"Please don't say that, _fratello_. I love you. _Nonno _loves you-"

"Don't mention that bastard to me!" Lovino snarled. "He doesn't give a damn about me!"

"Don't say that, Lovino!" The younger boy felt a couple tears slide down his face, despite his best efforts to control them. He hated when Lovino got into these moods. It physically pained him to see his brother like this. "He loves you so much."

Lovino clutched his head. The throbbing assaulted his thoughts and blurred his vision. All he could see was that same back over and over. Broad and strong and holding a child like it was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, it was.

"You're wrong. And I don't care. I don't give a damn if he cares for me. I don't need him. I lived fine without him for those years."

"He never forgot you, Lovi!" Feliciano bristled under the accusations pointed at his beloved caretaker. _Nonno _doted on him. He couldn't remember a time before he lived with the man, and all the lessons and stories and moments that passed between them held strong in his mind, despite the many years that passed. He still remembered clutching the older man's hand and wandering the aisles of toy stores to find the perfect gift to send his brother. He would sit and watch in awe as _Nonno _described his _fratello_, picturing him in his mind's eye, complete with the brown hair and intelligent golden eyes his caretaker so vividly relayed. "He was always thinking about you!" Feliciano remembered how broken and sad that face appeared when he was rejected by his beloved grandson. Anger welled up in him. "Why don't you think about how someone else feels, for a change?"

"That's right."

Feliciano gasped, his hands flying to his mouth, disbelieving of the cruel words he'd just said. He had been angry, but that was no excuse. Lovino needed his support right now, not his rejection.

"That's right." Lovino repeated. "I should think about others, huh?"

"_Fratello, _I didn't mean-"

"I-I was just a kid. You wouldn't understand. You don't remember the life we had before he came. He was my savior. I though he could make me happy. I honestly thought-" An incredulous laugh burst from between his lips. "I trusted him."

"_Fratello_, he was always going to come for you." Feliciano reassured.

"Try telling that to the me from back then, dammit!" Lovino's voice reached a new pitch, but he didn't even care about his headache any more. The pain in his heart was so great that his head felt numb in comparison. "I was three for God's sake! I thought he would come back and I waited. And waited. And waited. And I told myself he would come. 'He's coming for me, today' I would say. Every day I sat and waited. Every note, every box that came. I would tear them open, sure that they were the news I was waiting for. I didn't think my heart could break so many times." Tears were pouring from his eyes now, but he didn't even care. He didn't give a damn how Feliciano's face was paling and pinching. He didn't care anymore.

"For three goddamn years I waited. My whole life over again. I finally realized he had lied to me. He didn't want me. Just like our parents. Just like everyone." Even Alfred. When had he last seen him? Had the American thrown him away, too? Gotten tired of him and tossed him, like some old toy?

"Lovino, please listen." Was Feliciano seriously still trying?

"No, you listen." His dark tone silenced his brother immediately. "I'm done with this. Don't try to find me." He tossed over his shoulder as he slammed the door behind him, leaving Feliciano alone in the dark. It didn't matter if he could hear the sobs behind the door. The idiot would go run to that potato bastard to be comforted, like every damn time they argued.

If only he had a place to go.

He stumbled along a secluded path, not caring where it led. The sky, which had been threatening to pour forth finally let loose it's burden upon the earth. Lovino ceased walking in favor of standing solitary under the torrents. He felt the rain slowly ease away his pain, tears and troubles running off him with the rivulets of rain.

He didn't know if it was the metaphorical washing or the previous venting, but for whatever reason, he felt that, for the first time in a long while, he may have found peace.

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><p><strong>I saw Guardians of the Galaxy. It was so beyond epic. Seriously.<strong>

**Sorry for the super angsty chapter. This is a hard week for me, because it's my last week of wok before I leave for school. I'm going to miss my kids desperately, so I'm feeling pretty down. I was also listening to angsty music. Wanna guess from where the title name came?**

**Thanks again for all your support. Every time I get a review, I want to cry from happiness. Thay really brighten my day! Thanks guys!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	24. Mutiny

**Crazy days, man. Said goodby to my kids, packed for college, took self defence classes, went to the beach, swam for the first and last time this summer, had a clam bake, went to a farm show, got crazy lost while driving, got a caricature of myself snk style, played and awesome prank on my brother, ad saved a tiny child from faceplanting on a sidewalk. All in all, it's been hectic.**

**Thank for your support!**

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><p>Arthur could only gape in shock as his cousin was restrained by many hands, eyes burning and mouth spitting snarls and curses. He'd never seen such an expression on Alfred's face and it terrified him. Ivan, too, was being held back by teachers, his expression twisted from its usual blankness to a frightening leer, blood dripping from his nose. Toris stood by his side stuttering comforting words in Russian and throwing worried looks at Alfred. Behind the American lay Eduard Von Bock, still and unmoving. Raivis hovered close, tears falling freely from his eyes.<p>

Arthur's feet remained rooted in place, while everyone around him milled about in panic. What the hell happened in the five minutes he was away getting water?

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><p>Ivan had been getting increasingly tired of insubordination. Ever since Raivis stepped out of line and received no punishment, the other underlings had been getting cockier. Of course, they never really did anything outright, merely whispered and threw glances. Still, Ivan couldn't do much about anything. The teachers had been watching him more closely ever since his scuffle with the American. Raivis, on the otherhand, was a different matter entirely. He had always been an idiot, blurting out whatever came to his head only being saved from punishment by the ever-protective Eduard, but now he was out of hand. He was outwardly opposing Ivan and protesting against his control over the others. Despite the trembling in his shoulders, his eyes burned with anger and a newly-instilled longing for independence, courtesy of the American.<p>

Ivan stared coldly at the dancers leaping across the stage they were practicing on.

Pathetic.

Though many of them could dance well, they put no emotion into their movements. Dance without emotion is dead. He focused his attention on the timid, mousy girl he'd chosen to be Odette. She was the best among them, but too shy and gentle. Her movements were fluid, but held none of the power necessary for the part.

"_Vanya, my dear, look at the swans. Such beautiful creatures. Their necks arch so elegantly and they seem so peaceful, floating on the lake. But, if you threaten their loved ones, they'll show their true power."_

Anastasia had been so like a swan herself. She was graceful and elegant. A stunning dancer, she performed with the Russian Ballet many times as Odette. Ivan would watch the old tapes of his mother dancing and imagine what she must have been like when she was so young. Still, he preferred her as the woman she became.

At last, he could watch the desecration of his mother's legacy no longer. He stamped over to the girl who, noticing his presence, began to stutter and shift.

"What do you think you are doing?" He growled. The girl flinched away. "This is pathetic. Did you learn nothing in your years of dance? If you continue this failure, I have no choice but to demote you."

The whimpering girl was saved by Raivis. He positioned himself in front of her and glared up at Ivan. Ivan's teeth clenched.

"Leave her alone, Ivan." Raivis' voice trembled slightly. "She's not doing anything wrong."

Ivan was only vaguely aware of Eduard's panicked explanations as he grabbed the tiny Latvian by the throat and dragged him into the deserted hallway. He had had enough. Raivis had to be taught his place. Ivan drew his fist back.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eduard threw himself in the way. "Please, Ivan. He didn't mean it. You know Raivis, he never really means what he says. You know he's loyal to-"

"Shut up, Eduard." The small boy growled. "Stop trying to protect me. I'm not a child. I will not whimper and cower in front of him any more!" Eduard's eyes filled with hurt but Raivis continued. His friend needed to understand his resolve. "You can be a coward, but I'm tired of that. It's about time I stood up against him."

Ivan snarled. "You will not leave. I will not let you. No one can ever leave me again."

"You're just a selfish brat," Raivis continued, "obsessed with control and false friendship. Let me tell you this, Ivan." His eyes narrowed to slits. "Not one of us is your friend."

Ivan's fist surged forward and smashed into Eduard's jaw. The Estonian crumpled bonelessly to the ground. "No one," He glared at the rebellious boy, "gets away with saying that." He raised his fist again.

Only to stifle a cry of pain when Alfred's strong hand clenched his arm.

"Let him go. Now." Alfred threatened.

"Ah, Alfred. Just the one I have been wanting to see." Alfred scowled as he saw the Russian's creepy smile return to his face. Ivan released Raivis, and the boy instantly ran down the hall for help.

"I don't want to see you ever again, Ivan. You sicken me, preying on the weak because you're too cowardly to challenge the strong."

"And I suppose you think you're a hero, with your talk of justice and freedom."

"I try." Alfred straightened under Ivan's patronizing gaze. "I only want to protect those around me. Not like you'd understand that."

_What would you know?I have loved before as well. _

"Nyet. Perhaps not. But at least I don't lie to myself. What would Matthew say?"

Ivan barely had a moment to feel regretful before Alfred's fist smashed into his nose.

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><p>Once more, Alfred found himself sitting in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in Romulus Vargas' office. The headmaster stared solemnly at the two boys seated in front of him and sighed.<p>

"I see you two have a little trouble getting along." He raised a hand and silenced Alfred before he spoke. "We do not tolerate fighting in this school and, Mr. Jones, You have already received your warning." Alfred slouched in his seat. "However, I have witness accounts that the fight was entirely your fault, Mr. Braginsky. Furthurmore, you knocked a boy unconscious and gave him a concussion. I cannot overlook this. Ivan Braginsky, you are suspended for three weeks. Alfred Jones, you will deliver his homework to him. That is all.

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><p><strong>So Ivan said it. Despite his best attemts to refrain. Poor guy.<strong>

**I totally didn't mean for it to turn out this way, btw. It was supposed to be pretty cut and dry. Ya know: ey bad guy, become good. Ok, why not? That kinda thing. Now we enter phase 1 of rehabilitate the crazy Russian. Go Alfred!**

**I'll be moving to college on Saturday. Wish me luck! I'll do my best to continue undating every other week. We still have a ways to go. Also, I might go back and combine chapter so they'll be longer and fewer. Yup.**

**In the meantime, Jai Ho.**

**~sparklybuttely42**

**8i8**

**EDIT: I'm so sorry! I thought I released this last night but I never actually uploaded it! Sorry!**


	25. The Shackle

**Guys, I'm so sorry that this is late! I have insanely busy Mondays, so I might have to start updating on Tuesdays, instead. Also, this chapter is super short because I have 2 tests, 1 essay and 3 chapters due Friday. Ugh. And I did over 5 hours of French study yesterday and ended up dreaming in French. Woah. **

**So, Kuroko no Basuke is over. I kinda died a little. And that latest Free! episode? It killed me. **

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><p>Alfred stared though the darkness at the ceiling of his bedroom. He'd been sent to bed without dinner as a punishment for getting into a fight. Again. With the same person. Honestly, his aunt and uncle probably only punished him because Ivan had been suspended. Otherwise, they didn't seem too displeased.<p>

So now Alfred found himself staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach and the echoes of words in his head.

"_What would Matthew say?"_

Alfred's eyes stung. Where had Ivan heard about Matthew? What right did he have to mention him?

"_At least I don't lie to myself."_

Alfred clenched his fists. Ivan was right. Alfred lied to himself. He always had. Even when he was just a kid, he'd filled his head with ideas of heroism. Dad hadn't helped much, always encouraging his heroics; giving him advice. And it turns out he was the worst of all.

"_Everyone will leave you. No one cares if you live or die."_

Who had said those cruel, cruel words? And to whom? Didn't that person know how deeply words could cut? Didn't he know that careless words could ruin lives?

Alfred closed his eyes. And he _remembered_.

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><p>It wasn't the least bit odd for Alfred to find himself rooting around in the hood of a car when he had things on his mind. He's worked at Uncle Freddy's mechanic shop for years, now. The man had taught him so much about machines and willingly offered material to practice on. The old mechanic was extremely knowledgable in his field, but the thing Alfred loved most about Uncle Freddy was the non-mechanic related advice he gave.<p>

Alfred dropped his wrench for the tenth time. His mind was clouded in anger, and he couldn't focus. How dare he? How dare Carlos touch his brother? After all those times Mattie had tried to help him!

Alfred felt a warm hand on his back. "You won't be able to do anything if you can't see past your anger." The gentle voice was full of understanding. Alfred sighed in frustration as he turned to face his mentor.

Uncle Freddy's kindly eyes crinkled up as he smiled at Alfred. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" The older man sat on the hood of a car, and Alfred followed suit.

"I'm really mad." Alfred glowered. Uncle Freddy just nodded solemnly. One thing Alfred loved about the old mechanic was that he was never patronizing. He treated everything Alfred said to him as if it was just as important as something an influential and powerful man could say. Alfred knew he could come to his older friend for advice and never be turned away.

"I'm mad because Mattie got really hurt. He was trying to be friendly to Carlos, you know him? And Carlos beat him up. Mattie told mom and dad that he got hurt during hockey and it was no big deal, but I got him to talk. I went to Carlos and-" The child paused, and the continued, slightly quieter "-I said some pretty bad stuff to him. I was just so mad, ya know? And I feel a little bad now, but it's not like he didn't deserve it, after what he done! I just-" He sighed from the bottom of his soul "-I just feel _bad_."

The kindly man stroked his white beard and glanced at the child gazing up at him as if held all the answers in the universe.

"Alfred," he finally began, "this is a very difficult situation. Your brother was hurt, so you were justly angry. Anyone would be in your situation, and you did the right thing by defending him. But," the child who had been nodding emphatically glanced up in confusion, "words can hurt. Things we never meant to say, or perhaps said in the moment but regretted later, can have lasting effects. Careless words can cost lives.

The old man removed a thick gold chain from his neck and placed it in the boy's hand. A six pointed star winked up at him.

"This is the proof of my mistake. Because I was foolish and let cruel words fly, I lost all that I held dear. Never once have I believed I deserved for it to return to me. I can only pray that it is not too late for you."

Uncle Freddy ruffled the child's tow colored locks. He lifted the necklace and placed it around Alfred's neck. "For safe keeping," he explained. Alfred was so young. He had his whole life ahead to make mistakes. The mechanic hoped that the words of a child would not be taken to heart. He didn't deserve that curse hanging over him for his whole life.

And yet, he knew how unjust life was.

"Well, now." The light tone signaled the end of the discussion. "I do believe we have a car to fix."

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><p>Alfred blinked at the ceiling. He lifted the Star of David from where it rested on his chest. It was one of his most treasured possessions. Uncle Freddy had given it to him for safekeeping. But Alfred knew there was more to it than that. He had seen the way the man looked at it; the pain in his eyes, the regret in his voice. He <em>knew<em> it wasn't a positive memento. Rather, it was a shackle. Perhaps his friend's bones were too weary to bear the burden any longer.

Still, he knew the meaning behind the gesture. Uncle Freddy was passing on his knowledge. The man had once failed. So badly, in fact, that it ruined his life. Alfred failed, too. He had acted the part of the villain, despite his deepest wishes. And he was doing it again. What did he know? Did Ivan have the right to tarnish Mattie's memory? No. No way. But did Alfred have the right to judge him? No. Ivan was like Carlos all those years ago. Hated; feared; only surrounded by those who couldn't stand up to him. Alfred wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

In that moment, the star resting on his chest felt just a little lighter.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for your wonderful support! Though it makes me feel guilty for not being able to give you long chapters, but, what can you do?<strong>

**So, here's the lowdown of my college experience so far. **

**I love all the people. The teachers can be intimidating and are rather proud of the fact that they won't hesitate to flunk you if you don't try hard enough. I thought I would be the only otaku here, but I'm not! I wear my anime shirts around campus and I get so many, "I love that show"s or "I need that shirt!" It's awesome. I always believe in throwing yourself on the line for what you love, and if some people think I'm weird for only wearing anime shirts, there will be others who agree with me, even if they are so outward! I've also found trekkies and MARVEL geeks galore!**

**Here's a brief descrip of my teachers, cuz they're real characters!**

**Philosophy- He has a bushy white beard and talks so softly and gently. Exactly how I would imagine one of the Greek philosophers!**

**Psychology- A complete nutcase. He wears denim suits and wacky print shirts. He's very casual and relaxed and has the hair and beard of a younger Colonel Sanders.**

**French- Short, French lady with a funny sense of humor, though very tough! She somehow believes that all Americans hate French people and think they're rude.**

**Western Heritage- Southern gentleman who has a typical drawl and comes to class in pink pants and bowties. Super nice and great sense of humor!**

**Choir- Thinks he's funnier than he is. Very passionate about music and very talented.**

**Theatre- Typical hippie theatre lady. Don't know her that well yet.**

**Anyway, I love all my teachers, though the classes are hard. I'm loving college so far! How is your guys' schooling going?**


	26. Responsibility

**Hey guys! I'm so glad I was able to write this chapter! I probably shouldn't be, since I have 2 papers due this weekend, but I'd rather do this any day! I'm really pleased with this chapter in a way, so I hope you enjoy it!**

****French is such a hard language to learn. I'm having lots of trouble with it. Japanese is so much easier! ****I'm enjoying dancing at the Ballroom Dance and Swing Dance clubs! It's tons of fun, though I step on lots of toes. Aside from that, school is hard, and I've gotten some bad grades already. EEK!****

****I also started reading Haikyuu! I was really missing my sports manga, since KNB is over. T^T. I love Haikyuu! though! So cute!****

**As always, thanks so much for the reviews, faves and follows! **

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><p>With Ivan out of the picture, the cultural festival was, more or less, peacefully concluded. (A few students may have snuck alcohol into the school and gotten a certain Dane so drunk that he stripped naked and reaped havoc in the Swiss Stock Exchange, but, as Denmark has no drinking age and the student, as nephew of the current Danish monarch, had diplomatic immunity, he got off with little more than a warning and a couple warning shots from a particularly volatile Swiss gun fanatic.)<p>

Without Ivan intimidating them, the Slavic students were able to breathe more easily. Since they had nothing else prepared, the performed their dances, with no fear of being punished, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They even added an aerial acrobatics number that awed the audience. The Circle Academy Orchestra performed beautifully, playing selections of famous composers around the world. Alfred felt a bit overwhelmed to be playing is such a large body of musicians, but enjoyed it, nonetheless.

The British students' program placed first among student choice, understandably, though the Arts of Italy display received the first prize from visiting adults. Feliciano basked in the warmth and praise for days after.

Overall, the festival was a success, and Alfred, in his excitement, found himself planning ideas for the next year. Until he was brought back to earth with a solid thump in the form of a stack of homework. He glanced up from his lab table at his chemistry teacher. Mr. Mendeleev raised an eyebrow at Alfred's befuddled face.

"I was informed that you would be delivering Ivan's homework to him while he is absent."

"Right." Crap. He'd almost forgotten. He'd have to pick up Ivan's assignments from the Russian's other teachers as well and deliver them to him after class. Where was he staying anyway?

His question was answered by none other than Headmaster Vargas. Romulus bumped into Alfred as he headed to the office after classes. After inviting him to pull up a chair, The older man sat back and gave Alfred a once-over with his piercing eyes.

"Have you accumulated Ivan Braginsky's workload?" At Alfred's nod, he continued. "For the next three weeks, you will be bringing all of Mr. Braginsky's homework assignments to him as well as returning the finished product to his teachers. Until those three weeks are up, he will stay in his dorm." He pushed a piece of paper to Alfred. "This is his dorm address. He has his own suite, so there is no need to worry about bothering anyone. Should he require any tutoring, you will provide it or find others who can." His voice softened a bit when he saw Alfred's hesitance. "I realize that this is a big responsibility. But fighting is not tolerated in this school, and we have consequences. Good day, Mr. Jones." As Alfred stood, Romulus reached over and grasped his arm.

"Ivan needs someone. He's been alone so long. I believe you can help him, Alfred."

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><p>After Alfred had closed the door behind him, Romulus eased himself back into his chair with the air of a weary old man. He glanced at a framed photo from which two pairs of golden-brown eyes winked innocently. He felt the age-old pain as he stared at the older child in the picture.<p>

"You have already saved one lonely child, Alfred. I believe you can do it again."

But there was no one to hear him in the empty room but the worn photo, creased thickly as if it had been folded and unfolded again and again by pining hands, shaking with longing.

* * *

><p>Despite his outward calm, Alfred was inwardly freaking out. Arthur had grudgingly led him to Ivan's dormitory. He even offered to go inside with him, but Alfred refused. Not that he wouldn't have felt more comfortable with Arthur by his side, but he would have felt really pathetic, too. Now he stood in front of a perfectly innocent looking door. But looks can be deceiving.<p>

He clenched the necklace under his shirt and tried to remember all the Uncle Freddie had told him. The man had always preached peace and love, insisting that words could solve most conflicts without any need for violence. Alfred had let him down before, but this time would be different.

No one deserves to be alone.

With that last thought, Alfred braced himself and rapped on the door.

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><p>Ivan Braginsky had been staring up at that same sunflower in the corner for who knows how long. He hadn't left his room since he'd been suspended. Days had passed since then, but they were all a blur. He knew he should have been grateful for only being suspended three weeks, yet he didn't care enough to actually think about it. His heart still stung from betrayal. Raivis had been his friend, right?<p>

The younger boy was always weak and pathetic, but that's why Ivan was there. Friends protect each other, right? But how could he protect them if they didn't obey him? Running off with strangers, following ridiculous ideas, and rebelling against the one who wanted to help them would only lead them all to pain.

What could they possibly do without him?

_What could he do without them?_

Didn't they see that he knew what was best for them?

_What was really best? He had been alone for so long. Did he even know how to treat people anymore?_

No. Betrayal is too cruel. For anyone. It is wrong. He knows this. He _feels_ it. Even deep within his frozen heart, he feels the cracks that shake him to his core as he watches that tiny frame, those large eyes turn on him again and again and again. Those lips so used to laughter and trembling alike, pulled into an angry snarl. That usually soft voice, cutting and deep.

"_None of us is your friend."_

Ivan clutched his heart with a cry as the pain stabbed deeper still. Why did it hurt so much. He had though he had lost the capacity to feel after _Mama_ died.

After _Otets _turned his eyes to another woman.

_She will never be my mother. _

After _sestra _abandoned him.

_Then who is that who has brought him food these past days? Whose violet eyes have looked at him with sorrow? Whose soft hand has brushed aside his hair from his face? He wishes he had paid more attention, now._

The ache lessens, and his eyes return to the sunflower. He saw sunflowers once. A whole field of them. At the time he was very small. He ran through the fields with his _sestra _beside him, staring in awe at the flowers that towered above him. He had thought them magnificent, bright as the sun. They stood proudly, and, from his view, were as bright and vibrant as the sun itself.

But now he knew the truth. He is tall enough, old enough, has seen too much of the world's cruelty to ever see those flowers in the same way. Sunflowers **I**are not proud. They hang their heads, as if the sun has beaten them into submission. The power after which they are named shines above gloriously as they turn their eyes to the dirty ground, in which they are firmly planted. Though they are surrounded by thousands of others, they are alone as they continue to stare only at the ground. If only he could have seen this when he was a child.

He hears a knocking and wonders if She has come again. The one who has not yet left him alone. But this sound is louder, firmer, yet with more hesitation. He slowly rises, stumbling as his weakened limbs fail to support him.

He opens the door for the first time in days and steadily keeps his head firmly raised, though his weakened neck struggles to hold up his head.

He will not bow before the sun.

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><p><strong>So what do you think? I really love hearing from you guys! It brightens my day! Especially when I'm having a lousy one!<strong>

**I should be updating in a fortnight!**

**A Bientot!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	27. Neglected

**Surprise! I got one out early because *drumroll* it's my birthday! Woohoo! I'm no longer a teenager!**

**I hope you like this chapter! For more Romerica adorableness, go to rajikka. She's amazing.**

**I don't own Hetalia, sadly, but I do own many anime tees, of which I've been wearing a new one every day I've been here. I just ran out. Yup.**

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><p>"Dude, you look awful." Are the first words that come to Alfred's mind and he blurts them out before he has a chance to rein them in. It's true, though. Ivan, though already having a pale complexion, is a ghastly white color. His hair is limp and greasy and his eyes dull. He breathed heavily as he struggled to keep his weakened limbs under him. They failed him and he began to fall.<p>

Without a second thought, Alfred surged forward and caught the boy, grunting at the sudden dead weight and struggling to drag him into his room.

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><p>Ivan blinked his eyes opened and glances about him. A window is open, and fresh air and sunlight pour in. How long has it been since he was outside?<p>

"Hey, there." A cheery voice greeted him, and he spun quickly, wincing at the pain it brought to his head.

"I brought you some chicken noodle soup. It's the best when you haven't eaten in a while and are feeling sick." Alfred placed a steaming bowl in front of the weakened boy. A lightly spiced smell emanated from it, and Ivan suddenly realized how hungry he was.

Alfred watched with interest as Ivan scarfed down the contents of the bowl, ignoring the boy sitting across from him completely. Alfred sighed. It's not like a bowl of chicken soup could instantly cure the bad blood between them. He'd have to work for it.

"So I brought your homework assignments. I'm supposed to explain anything to you that you don't understand."

Ivan growled at him. "I don't need your help."

"Just if you missed something important in cla-"

"I don't _need _your help." The Russian's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Just get out."

"Fine. Then you'll get bad grades for turning in homework late. I have to bring it back with me in the morning."

Ivan frowned and picked up the pages, giving them a cursory glance. He muttered something in Russian as he glared at Alfred, and the American wished he'd learned Russian before now.

"Tell me what happened in Chemistry today."

Though Alfred bristled at the order, he immediately launched himself into explaining their latest experiments. Getting on Ivan's good side was going to be hard.

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><p>"Alfredooo! I was so worried, ve~! I thought that meany pants Russian would eat you! We all thought you were going to die! I prayed and prayed for you and even told God that I would give up pasta forever and die of starvation if you died! I'm so glad you're still alive and not chewed up! That would be nasty, ve~! And now I don't have to give up pasta! Oh, Luddy, can we have pasta for lunch?"<p>

"_Ja_, I don't see why not."

"Vee~ _Grazie!_"

Alfred wasn't very surprised when Feliciano burst into tears and clung to him the next morning. However, he wasn't expecting Kiku, Ludwig, Feliks, Raivis and Toris as well. They had all looked rather worried, but when they saw him unharmed and smiling, relief graced their faces. Eduard was still out of school on account of his broken jaw and mild concussion. He was lucky it hadn't been worse, considering what Ivan's strength could do.

Where was Lovino? He glanced around, half expecting the fiery Italian to be leaning against a wall, trying to act like he didn't care, but his eyes would betray him.

Content that Alfred was well, Feliks dragged Toris and Raivis away, waving cheerily. Alfred turned to Feliciano.

"Where's Lovino? I haven't seen him in a while. Even during the festival, he wasn't around much."

Feliciano, who had cheered up considerable since Ludwig said they could have pasta, suddenly began to sniffle again. "_Fratello_ hasn't been feeling happy lately. He's been so sad and lonely. And even when I tried to talk to him, he became so angry at me. I want him to be happy, but I don't know what to do!" He finished his statement with a wail that rivaled a siren. Ludwig awkwardly patted his shoulder.

Alfred felt guilt weigh on his chest for making the younger boy cry, but even more for leaving Lovino alone for so long and not considering that he might be in a bad mood. Friends were supposed to always be there for each other! He resolved to find Lovino and fix the whole mess.

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><p>Easier said than done.<p>

After he finished his classes and turned in Ivan's homework and picked up the next day's assignments, he searched all Lovino's favorite haunts, starting with the garden. He searched kitchens, auditoriums, bathrooms, and classrooms. He was about ready to give up when he finally saw a light on in one of the art rooms for student use. He glanced in the window and almost cheered when he saw Lovino. Until he saw what he was doing.

He was painting.

Under the artist's gentle hand, the canvas had been transformed into a scenic landscape. It was a slightly impressionistic countryside at sunset. The golden fields soaked in and reflected the vibrant red sun, and far above in the deep purple sky, silver stars twinkled. It was passionate and stunning, and Alfred felt a twist of longing in his heart to see it for real. Could that be Italy?

Lovino finally set down his brush and palette, nodding at the picture.

He grabbed a pair of scissors on the table and with a swift jab, tore through the canvas. Alfred gaped in shock and horror as his friend slashed the masterpiece into ribbons. When he was finished, there was nothing but limp smeared strands.

Lovino placed the scissors back on the table and carefully removed the canvas from its easel. He gently lay it in a pile of similarly mutilated frames at his feet and reached for a blank new canvas, dipping his brush in the colors and starting again on the cycle of destruction.

Alfred turned from the scene in turmoil. How could Lovino be hurting so badly? It wasn't right that such an amazing person would be so alone.

It looks like his work was cut out for him.

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><p><strong>Watcha think? Sorry it's so rushed. I have tons of school. Ugh. I'll see you again in a fortnight!<strong>

**I signed up for a Marine challenge at the school on Friday. Please pray that I don't die. **

**There's also a naval battle on Saturday in the lake nearby. Each of the boys' dorms is participating, and they have to make boats out of cardboard and duct tape that actually float. There are three teams, the French, the English, and the Spanish. I'm rooting for the Spanish because England is annoying and I hate my French homework. Plus, then I could yell things like, "Don't touch the butt!" and "Dat mast doe." and "I ship it!" and "It's so canon!" Dang, I'm gonna have fun.**

**Love you guys, always and forever!**

**~sparklybutterfly42**

**8i8**


	28. Understanding

**I'm so sorry this chapter sucks, guys. It's super short and I feel bad about that. **

**But this week is midterms and I've had little sleep, and I'm restless and my stomach is trying to tear me apart from the inside so heck. **

**Please pray that my Philosophy and French tests go well tomorrow!(or if you don't pray, send me a vibration or whatever.)**

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><p>Alfred's patience had been growing quite thin. It was about two weeks into the punishment, and the Russian had been nothing but defiant. He rarely asked questions on the homework and refused to make idle conversation. Alfred had been doing his best to be friendly this whole time, but Ivan remained angry and difficult.<p>

He knew that if this went on much longer, he'd snap.

He shuffled angrily towards the far-off dorms, grumbling under his breath. Why did they have to be on the other side of campus? As he was passing the art building, a bright flash of yellow caught his eye, contrasting with the gray October day. A pile of sunflowers lay on top of a dumpster, no doubt having completed their purpose as still-life models. Without a second thought, he swooped them up.

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><p>"Hey, Ivan." Alfred knocked on his door and entered. The Russian was nowhere in sight, but the shower was running. Alfred plopped his bag down and wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water for the flowers, placing them on the study table and pulling out the day's homework.<p>

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><p>Ivan was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or embarrassed that Alfred was reading comics on his floor and eating fruit loops while he stood there in a towel.<p>

"'Sup, bro. Hope you don't mind. I let myself in." Alfred shoved another handful of the sickeningly colorful cereal into his mouth. Where had he even gotten those? "Nice skirt."

Ivan glared and went to find some pants.

When he returned, he noticed the sunflowers sitting innocently on the table. As always, they drew him in and he gently fingered the soft petals, marveling in their design.

"You like flowers or something?" Alfred glanced at him curiously. Ivan snorted and tore his hands away from the blossoms. "I found those in a dumpster and thought they could brighten up your gloomy room." Ivan turned away and toweled at his hair.

"It's okay to like flowers. My bro used to love them. He'd press them and make bookmarks." Alfred chuckled at the memory. "What a pansy. Though all the girls loved him for it. It really annoyed me. But the boys thought he was a wimp because of it, so I had to protect him a lot."

Ivan turned and glanced at him and then turned away. Alfred sighed. Even though talking about Matthew physically pained him, he'd opened up. But it did nothing, as usual.

"I don't like all flowers."

Alfred blinked in surprise and briefly looked at Ivan. Had he just imagined it?

Ivan leaned against the wall defensively and stared at the ceiling. Then he breathed in and spoke.

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><p>Alfred stared up at the ceiling of his room and ran over the events of the day in his mind. He hadn't expected Ivan to talk so openly with him. He hadn't told much, really. Just a memory of his sister playing with him in a sunflower field. But it was clearly an important memory for him, and it was probably hard to share with someone like Alfred, who had gotten him suspended.<p>

Alfred was just glad Ivan hadn't taken what he'd said about Mattie and thrown it in his face. He was entirely in power in that situation and could've used what Alfred had said against him, but didn't. And that was the first step in the right direction. Maybe things could work out between them after all.

He rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but all he could see was the image of his precious baby brother falling over and over again, eyes wide with shock. Mattie had been his purpose for so long: his reason to be strong. But now he was gone forever and ever, and it felt like Alfred was being crushed by his uselessness. He was lost and without reason.

Suddenly he remembered that lost and listless longing in Ivan's eyes as he recounted his memory and Alfred knew they could understand each other some day.

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><p><strong>Again, guys, I'm sorry. Life sucks right now.<strong>

**I'll try to update next week, but I can't make any promises.**

**Enjoy the rest of your day and stay happy!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	29. Crossroads

**Again, this isn't sufficiently long and I'm sorry, but things have been hectic. The midterms went very well, so thanks for your support! I also have an oral exam in French tomorrow that I'm nervous for. And a paper in Philosophy due tomorrow that I should have been typing rather than this, but screw that.**

**It really warms me up to get your reviews, especially when I've had a hard day. Thank you so much for over 200 reviews! I could never have imagined my writings could be so popular and garner such loyal followers. Thank you!**

**Fortunately, I have 2 days of Fall break, and I'm going to use them to write, so if all goes well, you'll get a new chapter next week! Fingers crossed!**

**(Also, I got an AO3 account. Should I post this story on there too?)**

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><p>In the past week, Ivan had been opening up more and more. It was slow at first, but when he realized that Alfred wouldn't mock or hurt him, he began to let things slip. It was a slow going, but he felt more comfortable, and the two had even had some conversations of mutual interest, and Alfred had wheedled Ivan into giving him some Russian lessons.<p>

Their talks varied greatly, at times discussing shows or celebrities, at others, cultures and religions. They found that they both enjoyed much of the same music, and that Ivan himself played piano for many years, until he stopped for a reason he wouldn't elaborate. Alfred offered to help him get into it again, but Ivan merely glanced away, eyes distant, and the conversation ceased for a while.

* * *

><p>"What language would you learn, if you could choose any?"<p>

"Chinese."

Alfred blinked at the prompt reply.

"Why?"

"There is something I must say."

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><p>"Seriously, man. Nesting dolls are creepy! It's like the bigger ones ate the smaller ones and you have to cut them apart to get them out!"<p>

"I now know what to get you for Christmas."

"Don't you dare."

A smile.

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><p>After a particularly painful night.<p>

"Have you ever felt so alone that you thought it'd be better if you didn't exist?"

"_Da_, many times."

"What did you do to make it go away?"

Silence.

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><p>"Dude. I will not put on a dress. Ever. Ever. Again. Once was enough."<p>

The Russian pouted, shoving the frilly abomination that was probably Natalya's attempt at seduction under a pillow.

"But you would look so good! You have the legs. Be more confident."

Alfred growled and threw a pillow at his face.

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><p>Alfred barely noticed when he began to look for reasons to stay longer. He didn't think much of it when he began to rush to his locker to put away his books as soon as classes were out. He didn't really compute that he kept an eye out for any more sunflowers in dumpsters.<p>

He didn't realize that he was beginning to enjoy his time with Ivan.

And if Ivan noticed his behavior at all, he didn't say anything either.

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><p>"What is your father like?"<p>

The question startled Ivan and he froze. Alfred's face was merely curious. He didn't know what he was truly asking.

_What is _Otets_ like? Big. Cold. Never smiles. Never laughs. Always in that room. Never pats his head or calls him '_Vanya_' like he had once. He was once so kind and gentle, always warm and smiling and he would snuggle Ivan under his bushy beard and tickle him and kiss Mama's cheek and they would laugh. No more. That kind gentle man was gone, a cold and cruel one in his place._

_But is he really cruel? Perhaps he's just sad. Just sad and lonely and wishing there was someone to hold him when the memories were too much and he wished it would all just end. End. END._

"He is like winter."

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><p>"And what about yours? Was he at all like you? Or, perhaps, were you like him?"<p>

"Yeah." A bitter laugh. "I guess I am."

* * *

><p>"Hey kiddo."<p>

Alfred stopped trembling in favor of looking up at his Daddy. He was a big man, with bright eyes and a warm smile. His eyes crinkled up in the corners when he smiled and it made Alfred feel safe. Alfred buried his face once more in his chubby knees, trying not to cry. Daddy didn't like it when he cried.

"What happened to make my little man?" Alfred loved it when Daddy called him that. His man. It just showed how grown up he was. Whenever he cried, Daddy called him that name and he felt so ashamed for his tears. Only babies cry. Babies and Mattie. Those things need to be protected.

Which brought him to his current predicament.

"M-Mattie said he hates me!" Tiny teeth bit at the trembling lips in an attempt to cease the sobbing sounds wrenched from within. "I was only trying to help! Those boys were being mean to him and I only wanted to help him. But then he pushed me and said he h-hates me and I d-don't know what to do!"

Daddy patted his head. "Don't cry." Obediently, Alfred took gasping breaths to calm himself. "We men don't cry. Heroes don't cry. You want to be a hero don't you?" Teary eyes turned to him and the little boy nodded. "There then. No more tears. You have to always be happy for Matthew and Mommy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." The boy whispered, wiping his eyes on a dirty sleeve.

"Now, you know Mattie didn't mean what he said. He was just angry that you interfered. I'm sure if you go to him now, he'll be happy to play with you again. Would you like me to come with you?"

The boy searched his father's face, then rose with determination. "I can do it myself."

His father smiled with pride and he knew he'd made the right choice. A large hand ruffled his hair.

"That's my little man."

His heart swelled and he laughed.

But somewhere inside he cried.

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><p><strong>I know it's short and kinda filler-y, but I really loved this chapter for some reason. It's mournful. Probably because I was listening to Duduk music, which is possibly the most beautiful in the world.<strong>

**Have a wonderful rest of your week and enjoy the fall weather! Fall in Michigan is so glorious it's brought me close to tears on many instances. To be able to live in a world so exquisite and yet know that this isn't even the best that can be is so humbling.**

**I have broken into song on many occasions due to overwhelming emotion and joy.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	30. Reintegration

**Hey you guys! Nufufufu. (Guess the reference!)**

**I really should be writing my 2 papers or studying for my 2 tests, but instead I'm being benevolent. Don't get used to it! Chapters will start being every other week again. However, I'm hoping to do NANOWRIMO, so maybe I'll get some of this written. Sorry this chapter is so short.**

**I can't believe it's chapter 30! Woo! I'm planning on sticking chapters together at some point, cuz this is gonna be a lot of chapters otherwise.**

**Also, some people were confused by Alfred having chubby knees ****in my last chapter.**** No, he's not obese. I was trying to portray that he was very young and still had baby fat. **

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><p>Lovino Vargas pushed his limp hair out of his eyes and ignored the ringing warning bell. He didn't even care anymore. No one had paid him much attention ever since Alfred got involved with that Russian bastard. Feliciano looked uneasy whenever he was around, and even Antonio, who had never left him alone when he'd wanted it, scarcely gave him a glance. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. He wanted to be alone in the first place. It's not like he even <em>liked <em>any of them. However, this time his lies fell flat, so that he couldn't convince himself of their legitimacy. For some reason, he couldn't care.

The bell finally stopped ringing and the empty classroom resounded with an even louder silence that made his ears ache and his heart clench. He felt like he was slowly drowning, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. No one else did, so what difference did it make?

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><p>Alfred and Ivan just felt too awkward. It's one thing to laugh it up and get friendly when you're alone, but it's another thing to act like pals in front of so many peers who witnessed a major battle between the two on more than one occasion. Said peers stood around, gawping at the sight of the two former nemeses before them.<p>

Which brought them to the awkward moment as they stared at each other, wondering what they should do. Surprisingly, it was Ivan who first spoke.

"It is looking like people are getting out of line in my absence, _da_? I am thinking we must fix this." His habitual cold smile was on his lips, but Alfred could see his eyes glinting with amusement. The students around shuddered in horror, but Alfred only scoffed and punched the Russian's arm.

"Cut it out, man. We were supposed to pretend that I turned you good so they would be surprised when we teamed up to subjugate the entire school. You've blown our cover."

"I thought heroes could not be brain-washed."

"Uhh... Hawkeye was brainwashed in the Avengers, and he's a hero."

"Are you calling me an angsty, power-hungry pretty boy with daddy issues?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"I see your point."

Alfred turned to the students who stared on in shock. "All is well here." He continued in his most monotone voice. "We come in peace. Take us to your leader."

"That would be _moi._"

The crowd parted for the student body president, who glided through and casually struck a pose, hand in his hair and hip popped, cold eyes flashing, despite the flirtatious smirk ever-present on his face.

"Ivan, so good of you to return. I was beginning to get worried." The false friendliness in those blue eyes made Ivan clench his jaw. He knew Francis had planned on using him. He used practically everyone. "And Alfred, _mon cher_, I am glad you have returned unharmed. No knowing what this maniac will do."

"Shut. Up." Alfred gritted his teeth. "He's not a maniac. Leave him alone."

"_Zut alors_! Can it be that you have been corrupted? And I thought we could have been good friends." The Frenchman gasped in mock dismay.

"Sure we could if you would stop being a douche."

"_Quoi_? What does that have to do with anything? Why would I be a bathroom appliance?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. Seriously? Francis was supposed to be fluent.

"Never mind. We have to get to class. Come on, Ivan."

Ivan obediently followed Alfred past the gaping student body president and terrified students. When they finally got far enough away, they let loose their amusement and laughed freely. Alfred slapped Ivan on the back. The Russian upped the ante, and they were soon playing a friendly game of who-can-smash-his-opponent-into-the-floor-harder?

Five minutes later, with backs stinging, they shuffled off to chemistry.

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><p><strong>The confusion with the word <em>douche <em>is that in French, _la douche _means shower. My French teacher is a little less than pleased that we have a different meaning for it.**

**Btw, my school has the only statue of Margaret Thatcher in America. Cool, huh?**

**I watched Durarara over break, what'd you guys do? I'm also planning on being Jack Frost, from ROTG, for halloween, but I might not be able to get the supplies in time. It'd be perfect though, because it's supposed to snow then. Who are you gonna be?**

**Thanks for all the support you give me! Couldn't do it without you!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	31. The Search

**Guys, you don't know how imponderably sorry I am that this is a week late! This have been insane, with exams and essays galore, and I'm currently working stage crew for a school play which takes up 5 hours every night. Plus registration was a painful experience. I'm sorry I missed updating, so here I am, with a longer chapter! Please take it and forgive me!**

**On a different note, I dyed my hair magenta. I did it all by myself, so it looks a little uneven, but still pretty cool. I waited until after my choir concert to do it. The concert was gorgeous. The song we sang is called Requiem for the Living by Dan Forrest. Look it up on Youtube! I think Bob Jones University does a great job with it. It was so powerful I started crying at one point while singing.**

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><p>News traveled quickly around Circle Academy. The days following Ivan's return to school were interesting, to say the least. Alfred constantly felt eyes on himself, even more so than usual, but no one cared to confront him. The students merely stood by, whispering and glancing at him in confusion and fear. Even Raivis, Eduard, and Feliks seemed to be looking at him with wariness in their eyes. Elizaveta still spoke with him, but there was a very different light in her eyes, and it honestly scared him a little. Why did she want to know so much about what Ivan and Alfred did? Toris, surprisingly, seemed very pleased with the outcome. He smiled at Alfred whenever he saw him and even thanked him outright once, though when Alfred asked, he didn't specify the reason for the gratefulness.<p>

Alfred sighed as Matthias looked warily at him and Lukas stared on with his usual poker face. Tino smiled softly, but shifted closer to Berwald, who looked impassive as always. Looks like even they heard the rumors. Those people didn't actually believe he would turn against him, did he? He felt his face fall at the thought of his friends' distrust of him. He'd thought he could trust them. Perhaps they were just a little wary at his sudden friendship with Ivan, but still considered themselves his friends. He couldn't jump to conclusions.

He felt a heavy weight drape across his shoulders, and he stumbled slightly under his burden. "Ivaaannn. Get off meee." He whined.

"_Nyet_. I do not want to."

"Dude. You're squishing me."

"I am not the burger obsessed American. Do not speak to me of weight."

"You calling me fat? You know muscle is heavier than fat, right?"

"In that case, thank you for the compliment."

"_Ne za chto_."Alfred ginned, happy he could use what little Russian Ivan had shown him. He glanced around and noticed the stares were more obvious than ever. "Let's get out of here."

Ivan silently nodded, no doubt noticing their unwanted audience as well, though he hid his emotions behind his usual smile. Alfred could see the difference between this smile and the old one. This was softer and truer. A real smile.

Nobody else could tell.

* * *

><p>Arthur was, as usual, swamped in the paperwork that his lazy president pushed onto him. There had been a recent string of vandalisms in classrooms. Nothing serious. Just tables overturned and chipped, some dents in the walls, and, the most serious, a cracked window. Arthur pushed away the though that it was the work of a spirit. No one would believe him, even if he saw it happen. Some people just can't believe what they don't see. He snorted in disgust as he overlooked another report. Multiple canvases disappeared from an art room, and later were found in a shredded pile in the dumpsters. Petty, but still destruction of school property. Arthur sighed. Why did this fall under his jurisdiction? Couldn't the headmaster deal with it? He set it aside with the other vandalism reports to discuss with Francis later, when a knock from the door broke him from his work.<p>

"Arthur." The cool, deadpan voice of Lukas Bondevik hailed him from the doorway, and he felt his mood immediately lift. Lukas was one of those people he could always have time for. Something about his calm nature made Arthur feel calm as well. Lukas also believed in magic and mystical beings like Arthur did. That was how they first hit it off. From there, they continued to get to know each other and found that they had even more in common. Perhaps what tied them together most was their mutual need for a friend who would be there when they needed someone, no questions asked; just a calming presence to hover by until they felt like they could go on. Arthur turned in his chair and turned his gaze to his friend.

"Lukas. What brings you here?"

Lukas entered the room and closed the door behind him. "Ivan is back in school."

Ah, good old Lukas. He always got straight to the point. "Yes, I am aware. What of it."

"I have noticed a change in him."

"Is he more psychotic than ever?"

"Not at all, actually. He is laughing and smiling."

Arthur shuddered. "How is that not more psychotic?"

"He is happy. He has been hanging around Alfred. They seem to be very close."

"What?" Arthur was incredulous. "What about Alfred?"

"He seems to be honestly enjoying being with Ivan."

"How? He-he… How could _Alfred_ of all people get along with_ Ivan_? They're polar opposites! And they hated each other!" Arthur was now standing, gesticulating wildly with his arms while Lukas looked on, impassive. Arthur paced and worried. Didn't he warn Alfred how dangerous Ivan was? Didn't everyone? But now his poor cousin was spending time with Ivan. They couldn't be friends, could they? Everyone knew what happened to the last friend Ivan had.

Or- didn't he? Could it be possible that Alfred didn't know? Arthur bit his knuckle. He didn't want his cousin to get hurt. He had to explain to Alfred how very dangerous Ivan could be. Or better yet, He could have someone who really knew the pain of Ivan's treachery tell Alfred. Time to go to the source.

* * *

><p>Alfred still couldn't get the image of Lovino slashing his beautiful paintings out of his mind. He kept an eye out for his Italian friend, but it seemed like he never crossed paths with him, except in Literature class. Even then, the Italian seemed to avoid him, leaving quickly after class and only mumbling short answers or rejections when Alfred spoke to him. Had he done something wrong? It had seemed like everything was going so well. He tried to discern when it was that Lovino started treating him differently. It must have happened too gradually for him to place the start, because, though he wracked his brain, he couldn't pinpoint the beginning of the change.<p>

He was so focused on his thoughts that he nearly bowled over a smaller figure as he turned a corner. Only his reflexes saved the form from falling to the ground.

"_Grazie_, Oh, Alfredo!" Feliciano's eyes searched around hurriedly. "Ivan isn't with you?" He seemed relieved when he saw this to be true and relaxed a bit. "Veee~ What are you doing?"

"Actually, maybe you can help me." Feliciano seemed to perk up at these words. "I'm looking for Lovino."

"A-ah. I haven't actually seen _Fratello _for a while. He has been so angry lately. And sad. He doesn't eat with us anymore, and he spends his time in his room or in different classrooms." Feliciano's face fell. "Actually, I haven't been looking for him for a while. I don't want to leave him alone, but I don't know what to do!" At the last statement, Feli's eyes filled with tears and he began to sob. Alfred looked around in panic and saw that the students were either glaring at him or shying away. Seriously? He didn't do anything!

Alfred gingerly patted Feliciano's shoulder, making comforting noises. "It's alright. Shh. It's okay."

Feliciano, being Feliciano, took this as a cue to throw himself bodily into Alfred and wrap his arms around the taller boy. Alfred awkwardly patted the Italian's back and noticed that the frowns lessened considerably. He gently led Feliciano away, trying to calm him down.

* * *

><p>After calming down the emotional boy, Alfred continued to search the school for Lovino. Many classes were letting out, and students going home. Lovino, however, wouldn't leave yet, because he'd want to avoid other people, given his current mood if Feliciano was accurate in his observations. He was probably hiding in a secluded area until the crowd died down.<p>

Alfred mentally congratulated himself for his deduction. He'd have to thank Arthur for convincing him to watch _Sherlock. _

He checked from room to room in the Literature and History Department building, but couldn't find him. He then moved on the Fine Arts Department, and though he saw Elizaveta and Roderich having a private (and by the looks of it, serious) conversation, he couldn't find Lovino. He searched the Science Building and the Language building, and by the end of it, he was cursing himself for coming to such a ridiculously large school. Night was quickly setting, as it is wont to do in the autumn and winter, and he pulled up his hood as a cold wind blew. He spotted the giant greenhouse up ahead and the thought of a warm and well lit place appealed to him. As he neared the glass building, however, he heard a sound from inside. It was the soft, lilting tones of a melancholy song. He couldn't understand the words, but the tune and voice were both familiar. He entered and leaned from behind a tree to ascertain the origin of the sound.

Leaning over a tomato plant, gardening gloves in his hands and face smiling softly as he let loose strains of music, was Lovino Vargas.

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><p><strong>This may seem like a filler chapter, but there's actually a lot going on here. Any guesses as to what will become important later?<strong>

**Thanks for all your support, guys! I love you all, and it makes me so happy to see that you really enjoy my fic!**

**Now to study for my Philosophy midterm tomorrow and do my French homework. Who needs sleep, anyway?**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	32. A Long Time Coming

**Hey guys. First off, I don't deserve you and I'm horrible but I'm so sorry. I never meant to leave this for so long. There was hell week and finals and the holidays and everything was a mess, and this got pushed to the wayside. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again!**

**I hope y'all are having a great New Year. One of my resolutions is to write 1000 words a week. Hopefully that'll encourage me to keep this updating regularly. I feel like this chapter title is a pun. Lol.**

**Something sucky happened yesterday. I slept over at my best friend's house, cuz I'm going back to school soon and I wanted to see her before I left. It was awesome until the end, when she began flipping out because her brother was hanging out with us and she thought I was ditching her. All she did was yell and when she drove me back home she completely ignored me, even when I told her I loved her as I got out of the car. We've had our fights, but not like this. I'm really sad she's okay with leaving things like this even though she won't see me for so long. We grew up together, and she's the only friend who's stayed with me and not abandoned me, and I can't lose her or I'll be all alone. Help!**

**On that depressing note, please enjoy this chapter. I think maybe what I'm goign through made this chapter a little personal.**

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><p>Alfred didn't want to intrude or eavesdrop, but he had to stop and listen for a moment. Contrary to his nature, Lovino's voice was warm and gentle. He gently tied a tomato plant to a stake, arranging it so it wouldn't grow crooked. Alfred perked his ears and strained to decipher the lilting notes coming from his friend. All he could catch was something about the sea and a garden and a plea for someone to return. He had once been quite fluent in Italian, as he had known many Italians back in New York. However, as is often the case with languages, he didn't use it so he was beginning to lose it. He made a mental note to ask Lovino to help him with his Italian. If he could figure out what was going on with him, that is.<p>

He went back to listening and trying to translate the song. Though he couldn't really translate it, he was once again struck by the power and beauty of music. In her lilting French, Madame Antoinette often used to tell Alfred and Matthew that 'Music is the language of the soul. If you can understand the music, you can understand the soul.' He'd always remembered the little French woman's words as she had gently touched the piano keys, bringing her words to reality with her mournful music. He felt the same emotion now as he listened to the Italian song. Even if he couldn't understand the words, the soul in the music was easy enough to read. Lovino was hurting and lonely and he was begging for someone to return to him, but too afraid of rejection to say it out loud.

Looks like he needed a hero. Alfred puffed out his chest and raised his chin, fisting his hands on his hips. Duty calls.

"Hey Lovino! What's up?"

"_Ch-Chigii!_" Lovino jumped straight into the air and turned on Alfred, livid. "_Cazzo! _What's wrong with you, _bastardo?_ Don't just jump out like that." Lovino collected himself and glared at Alfred. "N-Not like I was scared or anything."

"Haha. Where've ya been, dude? I haven't seen you in a while." Alfred slung an arm around Lovino's shoulders and leaned heavily on him, but ceased when Lovino flinched away. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Lovino avoided Alfred's honest, blue eyes. Now that he was talking to Alfred, he realized that the blonde never would purposely abandon or hurt him. He probably just was trying to be nice to a lonely kid. Maybe he just wasn't aware that Lovino didn't get along well with most people, not even his family. Maybe he thought they weren't as good of friends as Lovino had. It wouldn't be the first time Lovino jumped the gun on such matters and overestimated his importance in other peoples' lives.

"I haven't been feeling well, I guess. I took some days off from school." He still didn't meet Alfred's eyes, and the blonde leaned closer, face anxious.

"But when I saw you in class, you didn't even look at me and you wouldn't stick around. Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"_Si_. Everything is fine." The Italian replied hotly. Seriously. Alfred had to stop being such a bleeding heart. He was going to get walked all over. "You should go home. We have class tomorrow and you're going to miss dinner."

"Dude. What's up with you? Why are you avoiding me? I thought we were friends." Alfred's curious and somewhat hurt gaze burned into the back of Lovino's head. Lovino suddenly felt extremely angry. He was the one being abandoned. What right did Alfred have to play the victim?

"So did I, dammit!" Lovino turned on him, fire in his eyes. Alfred stepped back in shock at the pain and anger emanating from the smaller teen. He had no idea how things had gotten this bad, but he would never know anything about what was going on if Lovino wouldn't tell him. The Italian was now breathing harshly, hands clenched at his sides and shoulders hunched.

Silence settled over the two in a thick and suffocating haze, combatted only by Lovino's uneven breaths. Alfred was a little afraid to break it. He didn't really understand what Lovino was going through, but he also didn't know what to say and didn't want to make it worse. It was times like these that he wished he was more like Mattie. Matt always knew what to say to make someone feel special and important. It was easier for people to confide in him, while they felt more awkward around Alfred, who, despite his best intentions, tended to hurt people unintentionally by his 'encouraging' words.

Alfred sighed, drawing the golden eyes of his friend to himself. "Sorry, Lovino, for whatever happened. I hope I didn't do anything to hurt you. If you want to talk about it, we can. Just know that I think of you as one of my best friends here. Even when I didn't get along with Arthur, you accepted and helped me and I can't thank you enough. I hope we can still be friends."

Alfred's eyes were trained to the ground and Lovino sighed at the pitiful picture he made. "Of course we're friends, _idiota_." He tried to quell a blush at the confession. As nice as it was to admit that he had a friend, it was also more than a little embarassing.

Alfred laughed and threw his arm around Lovino, to the sputtering rebuttals of the brunette. Maybe Lovino still wasn't ready to tell him what was wrong, but at least he now knew they were friends, and for now, that was enough.

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><p><strong>Thanks for your endless support. I don't deserve it.<strong>

**Please remember to never leave anyone doubting how you feel about them. never let someone go to sleep angry at you. You never know which day is your last.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	33. Friendly Fire

**Hey Guys! Guess what today is! IT'S THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THIS STORY! I'm so absolutely excited. 33 chapters, 128 followers, 89 favorites and 246 reviews later, I'm just as extremely grateful for each and every encouragement you guys give me! Thank you so much!**

**As a thank you gift, I give you an early, and longer, chapter. I am also, in celebration, starting a string of one-shots from Matthew's point of view. He's such a crucial part of this story, and it hurts that he's dead. So I'll be posting little drabbles. Some will be funny, some will be sad. They will be clips of Alfred and Matthew's childhood and reflective pieces. That will be up soon. Hope you enjoy them!**

**In other news, the new semester started today. It's gonna be a tough one. **

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><p>Introducing Lovino to Ivan definitely could have gone better. Right off the bat, Lovino was nervous and his eyes shifted around warily. Honestly, Alfred didn't blame him. Ivan, to be fair, was rather intimidating. He was tall and pale and his purple eyes could stare into your <em>soul<em>. And Lovino, despite all his bravado, was as easily frightened as Feliciano. Ivan, too, was nervous. Alfred could tell. Of course, to anyone else, it would just look like he was very angry and wanted to flay you alive. So when Lovino dove for the teacher's desk in the classroom they were using as neutral ground and began chucking tape, erasers, and rulers at the tall Russian, it was excusable. Ivan, however, did not take well to being assaulted by school supplies and began to advance menacingly toward the increasingly terrified brunette.

If the situation weren't so delicate, Alfred would be bursting with laughter.

"Guys, chill out. It's all good." Alfred tried to keep the amusement from his voice and turned to Lovino who, now perched on the desk, his back arched and clutching a box of paper clips, looked like an irate feline. "Lovino, he's not gonna hurt you, so stop throwing things at him. Ivan, you too. Stop being creepy, man."

Both, assured that the other didn't mean immediate harm, relaxed slightly, though Lovino still grasped the paper clips in white knuckled hands.

"I am just trying to be friendly, _da_?"

"No, Ivan. I told you to be less intimidating when you meet my friends. Why don't you sit down and take off your coat." Alfred coaxed. Ivan frowned, but did as Alfred suggested. "I told you, Ivan, we need to take things slow here. People are still terrified of you. If we can show them you won't hurt them anymore, maybe we can get you some friends. _Real_ friends." _And maybe I can get mine back, too. _

Ivan brightened considerably, and a soft smile graced his face. It was a real smile, unlike his previous ones, and Lovino had to physically restrain his jaw from dropping. Ivan, _the_ Ivan, just _smiled_. And he somehow managed to not look like a complete psychopath! Maybe Alfred really was changing h- _No! _It was dangerous. Just remembering the last time someone befriended Ivan made him shiver. He had seen what Ivan could do. Or at least the proof of it. Ivan was erratic and violent and you couldn't just _fix_ those people.

Alfred was going to get hurt. His only friend. Alfred had called _Lovino_ his _friend_. The first one since-

He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't stand by powerless and watch as his only friend was ripped from his grasp. Never again.

Lovino watched while Alfred joked with Ivan. If only he knew…

And now he would.

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><p>Arthur grumbled to himself as he filed paperwork. As usual, his job was quite boring. At least the vandalisms had stopped a few days before. He'd never found out about that, but as long as they were over, it didn't matter much. The school could pay to fix a couple dents and broken windows. Probably just some kid blowing off steam. Though, hopefully, next time he would be less destructive to school property. Arthur shook his head and tried to set his attention back to his work. He hadn't gotten nearly as much done as he usually did. And he knew exactly why.<p>

His mind was full of worry for Alfred. Alfred was a daft idiot. He thought himself a hero and wanted to save anyone friendless or alone. And sometimes, he could. After all, Arthur and his brother had been more civil with each other than they ever were before. And Alfred surely had a hand in that, despite how badly Arthur had treated him. But Alfred didn't understand that some people weren't worth saving: that some people _couldn't_ be saved. He was naïve. Like a little kid, he acted like there was no cruelty in the world.

And yet- There were those times. Those odd moments, where something he'd say or do was just the slightest bit _off_. His smile would hold no warmth, his eyes dull. Almost _dead_. But then it'd be gone and Arthur would ignore it. He often saw things that didn't make sense, after all.

Arthur sighed deeply. All this thinking gave him a headache. He felt this foreboding that something was wrong. Alfred wasn't who they thought he was. Or maybe he was. Just not completely. _Oh, I don't know._

"Ugh. I need air." He grabbed his coat and walked out into the gray, dull outdoors. Breathing in deeply, he tried to put all thought of Alfred out of his head.

"Arthur, we need to talk." A gruff, defensive voice broke into his reverie and he cracked one green eye, groaning. Looks like he couldn't avoid thinking of Alfred if he tried. _Bloody twat_.

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><p>Raivis Galante was feeling guilty. Guilt was not something he usually felt, so it ate at him and festered. Ever since that day, well over a month ago, when he was cruel to his best friend, <em>who was only trying to protect him,<em> he had felt a deep ache in his heart. Every time Eduard smiled at him like he'd done nothing wrong, it grew. Each time his friend rubbed his still sore jaw, it felt like hands clamped onto his heart. Each time he passed Alfred in the hall, chatting with Ivan like it was the most natural thing in the world and Toris looked at them with that _soft_ look in his eyes, he wanted to explode and point blame and yell at Alfred, _What are you doing, befriending the enemy? He's the one who hurt Eduard! Hate him!_

But he couldn't. Because Ivan wasn't the one who hurt Eduard. Not really.

"_Shut up, Eduard."_

"_You may be a coward, but I'm tired of that."_

He was the one who had hurt Eduard the most. He cut him deeply with his words, and there was little that could heal such a wound. Nothing but a sincere apology. But would Eduard even accept it? He had always taken care of Raivis. Since they met, he had shielded him and taken most of Raivis' punishment upon himself. Raivis knew this, and yet he had called Eduard- kind, steady Eduard- a coward. No apology could remove that stain from his record. Oh, Eduard would forgive him, of course. He most likely already had. But could Raivis ever forgive himself? And should he even try?

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><p>Ivan rested across the desks beneath him. Alfred had gone home early today, as his last class had ended hours ago. While Ivan could still hear movement beyond the classroom door, it was not the regular busy bustle. He allowed himself to dwell on the warmth that enveloped him. He had a friend. Alfred had called <em>Ivan<em> his friend. Alfred had chosen him, even when he didn't have to. Ivan had never had a shortage of friends. But he chose them. And they never opened up to him like Alfred had. They hadn't listened when Ivan wanted to tell them something about himself. Something that _mattered_. Maybe about his mother or Katyusha. Maybe about the sunflowers. But he could always see in their eyes that they weren't listening. They were fearful and waiting. What for? He wanted friends, not slaves. Friends wanted to do things for each other. Slaves were forced. They were his _friends_.

_Right?_

"He will know. He can't be left in the dark about you."

Ivan jumped at the sudden voice. Without his notice, Lovino had managed to get into the room and was now casting a shadow on Ivan's form. Lovino's eyes were cold, and he wasn't trembling.

"I do not know what you mean."

"I'm sure." The Italian sneered. "We both know what you've done to your _friends_ before."

"He _chose_ me. I am sorry if it hurts you to be pushed aside. But Alfred is _my_ friend." He stared the smaller boy down. Lovino had no place in Alfred's life. All Alfred needed was Ivan. Ivan would be his friend. His _best_ friend. He would be the best friend ever, and Alfred wouldn't ever need anything else. He would never feel alone again. And then, maybe- _Maybe Ivan wouldn't feel so damn lonely, too._ He choked back his emotions. Now was not the time. This _creature_ wanted to take Alfred away.

Ivan wouldn't allow that. He _couldn't_.

"He wasn't the first one to choose you, though, was he? I seem to recall a certain incident a couple years back. Someone tried to be nice to you. He was there for you. And what did you do to him? The way I remember it, Yao ended up in the hospital for months. And his brother doesn't even talk anymore. You think I'll let you do that to Alfred? Fat luck, _bastardo_. I will never let you hurt _my_ frien-"

Lovino didn't even finish his sentence. He couldn't, with a vice-like grip wrapped around his throat. He stared deep into his attacker's eyes as his vision began to swim and he struggled to breathe.

_Were those… tears?_

And then, he knew no more.

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><p><strong>Sorry! <strong>

**I love you guys and thanks so much for helping me get to this point! It means so much! **

**I also thank you all for your support about my friend. You were so kind and understanding. I still text her and snap chat her a lot, but she hasn't replied yet. I'm sure things will work out, though.**

**Now, I must run. I'm missing the beginning of the double feature How To Train Your Dragon movie night!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	34. Revenge and Peace

**Hey guys. Sorry this chapter is so short. Way too much going on. In fact, I should be writing my American Heritage paper right now cuz it's due Friday, but oh well. I wanted to give you guys something at least. **

**We have tons of snow in Michigan! It's up to my knees and still falling! Now if only it was packing snow, I'd be a kid in a candy store.**

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><p>After being waylaid by Lovino and listening to his concerns, Arthur felt newfound assurance that this friendship between Alfred and Ivan boded ill. There was only one person he knew of who could help. For this reason, he found himself in the language building surrounded by a cacophony of languages being spoken. Only knowing a little French himself, Arthur was always impressed by those who could speak languages not their own.<p>

He found himself outside the Chinese classroom and, peeking inside, only found Yao Wang sitting alone, most likely there to offer services as a tutor. At the sound of the door opening, he tore his dark eyes away from a book in his lap and settled them on Arthur's face.

"Ah, good afternoon, Arthur." He smiled at the younger student. "Are you here for tutoring lessons?"

Arthur snorted at the thought. "Thank you, no. I don't speak a word of Chinese."

"It is never too late to learn." Yao replied sagely.

"I'm here about something-or should I say someone- different."

"Is this about Alfred?"

Arthur looked surprised.

"Ah, you didn't know? He's been taking Mandarin since he started. I tutor him often. He really has a knack for languages."

"Yes, what I came for is closely related to Alfred. As you may already know, Alfred seems to have made a new friend. And lost quite a few while at it, might I add. Alfred's intentions were innocent, of course, but the students are afraid of Ivan, and perhaps more than a little afraid _for_ Alfred. After all, we all remember or have hear what happened when you tried to befriend Ivan."

Yao tensed and his face darkened. "What is your point?"

"I don't want anything to happen to Alfred. He's an idiot and far too friendly and doesn't realize that there are bad people in the world who wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. I don't want what happened to you to happen to him or anyone he loves."

"I will not get in the way of their friendship. If Alfred can succeed where I failed, I will be very happy."

"How can you say that?" Arthur burst out with anger. "He hurt you. He hurt your brother. How could you allow him to have another chance to betray someone's trust?" Arthur knew it wasn't his place to dredge up demons in Yao's past, but he couldn't understand how Yao could just accept that someone who had hurt him and those he loved was getting off scot free. He had never gotten along with his brothers, and even now that they were trying to connect with him, he still held a deep-seated anger toward them. It wasn't something he could give up. How could Yao?

Yao stared at Arthur without flinching.

"He who seeks vengeance must dig two graves, one for his enemy and one for himself." Yao recited. "What right do I have to say Ivan cannot change, nor have a second chance. We all deserve someone to care for us, and if Alfred is that person, so be it." He continued, softer. "What Ivan did still haunts me. My brother will never be the same and I can never forgive myself for not realizing what was happening. However, it is not my place to decide whether Ivan can enjoy his life or not. I have not forgiven him, in the strictest sense. Perhaps I never will. But I cannot let what happened ruin my life or his. There is much yet to live for and perhaps, someday, not now but some day, there will be peace." He fixed Arthur with a level gaze. "Don't you wish for peace, Arthur?"

_I do. I do. I just don't know how to find it._

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><p>Alfred nibbled on the end of his pencil and scratched out a few more lines on his paper. Ivan and Lovino were both good friends of his. He needed them to get along or he would be torn between them always. If this plan worked out, maybe they could find that they had something in common and bond over that. It wasn't a lost cause. He would have both his friends getting along in no time.<p>

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><p><strong>Awww. Poor Alfred. He doesn't realize what's going on right now. And now you're all wondering what happened with Yao and Leon, but I won't get to that yet. Sorry.<strong>

**The first chapter of Samsara is out, if you want to take a look!**

**As always, thanks for your support! Any comments and critiques are welcomed and appreciated!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	35. Ghosts in the Halls

**Hey guys. Sorry it took so long. I've had some rough weeks. Tons of Exams, Midterms, Essays ect. all due at the same time, plus I'm working run crew for my school's production, so that knocks out my evenings. Just had my first stress-induced emotional breakdown since I came to school today because I found out two midterms I thought I aced I actually failed and I have a research paper due on the 6th that I've barely started and is super important for my grade. so ya. That's my life.**

**On a high note, I have a super nice senpai who is the greatest person. He always tells me I'm beautiful and wonderful even when I know I'm not and he always has hugs and nice words for me. I'm so grateful for him!**

**How're you?**

**I listened to kpop ballads while writing this, especially Taeil from Block B. Hug Me Now is my favorite song by him. It makes me cry.**

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><p>It took a moment for Lovino to realize where he was. His head spun and his throat ached and when he tried to speak, he found he couldn't. He struggled to get into a sitting position and finally was able to prop himself up against a desk. After giving the room a glance, he found that he was in a classroom and he was all alone. And by the look of the sky that he could glimpse outside the windows, he was all alone. He gingerly rubbed at his aching neck and gasped as he remembered the origin. <em>Ivan had tried to choke him!<em>

He knew what he was getting into when he decided to face the dangerous teen, but he was still horrified by how easy it was for Ivan to harm others. Speaking of which, where was Ivan? Had he thought he succeeded in killing his classmate? Was he now on his way to Alfred? Lovino struggled to his feet and stumbled forward, clutching at the desks to aid him. He had to get to Alfred before Ivan did. He had to warn him! He finally managed to get out of the classroom and hobbled down the halls. The building seemed completely abandoned and he fought to keep down his growing panic and the dark halls and the echoing sounds of his footfalls. Still, his active imagination jumped at the possibilities.

So when he heard the muffled sobbing and the unintelligible murmurs, his blood ran cold. Lovino's heart was in his throat, but he steeled his nerves and crept forward. He could definitely make out two distinct voices as he crept closer. One was crying and the other seemed to have a comforting tone. The sounds led to a classroom.

"_Bàoqiàn. Bàoqiàn__._" The muffled weeping was broken by this one phrase over and over, and, though Lovino couldn't claim to know what it meant, he could hear the deep regret and pain in each gasping word. The other voice was calm and soothing and shushed the other with unintelligible, soft sounds. Lovino gulped and slowly peeked around the door, hoping he wouldn't be seeing ghosts as he half feared.

His jaw dropped.

Ivan.

Ivan Braginsky was crying.

Not only was he crying, but he was sobbing as if his heart would break. He trembled in a pitiful ball on the floor in a corner of the room, hands tearing at his hair and blocking his ears from the gentle assurances of the figure next to him.

Again, Lovino gaped. The figure beside Ivan was Yao! As in Yao Wang, the senior best known for being brutally betrayed by Ivan! What was he doing comforting the one who had hurt him so deeply?

Now that Lovino could hear more clearly, he could tell that Yao was murmuring to Ivan in Russian. He may not know Russian himself, but could recognize it. Why was Yao doing this?

Yet even as he thought such things to himself, Lovino felt a deep pain at the sight of the trembling lump on the floor. He almost wanted to comfort Ivan himself. He just looked like a small child, too innocent to understand the cruelty of the world around him. Was this really the same Ivan? Lovino turned away and continued out the building into the budding twilight. He had quite a bit to think about. Should he tell Alfred about what happened? Why wouldn't he? And why was that image of the enemy in such a pitiful state still playing before his eyes?

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><p>Arthur found himself that night hesitating before Alfred's door, slightly afraid to knock. He had to talk to Alfred and he knew it. Alfred deserved to know.<p>

He rapped on the door and heard Alfred turn off his music (Queen. Good choice.) and, soon after, the door was opened. Alfred smiled in surprise and left the door open as an invitation to enter. Arthur followed behind the taller boy, noticing the piles of homework and books laying strewn about. Alfred returned to his desk where pages of paper with scribbles and doodles on them were spread out. Alfred nibbled on a pencil and continued to write.

"What are you doing?"

Alfred glanced up and beamed. "I call it 'Operation Make the Russian and the Italian Inseparable!"

Arthur gazed in horror as Alfred launched into all the ideas he had that would make Lovino and Ivan become best friends. Frankly, just the thought was disturbing. Halfway through Alfred's explanation of building a supervillain robot that would attack the earth and make Ivan and Lovino have to work together, which would make them form bonds and find the heroes deep inside, Arthur broke in and ceased the endless stream of noise.

"Alfred, this is really important."

Alfred sensed the serious tone and calmed. "What's up?"

"Alfred," Arthur began, steeling himself. This wasn't going to be easy. "I'm worried about you. Everyone is, really. You've been spending a lot of time with Ivan lately, and that isn't a really good idea." He instantly cut Alfred off with a motion before he could say anything. His cousin's eyes were cold and serious. "I know what you want to say. You're going to defend him. But first, you need to hear this. Please, listen. You need to know, and it seems no one else wants to tell you.

There is a reason Ivan has no friends, Alfred."

"Everyone deserves friends." Alfred's eyes flashed.

"Alfred. Listen. Ivan once had a friend. He had Yao Wang. It was a couple years ago. Yao was in 8th grade and Ivan was in 6th. Ivan had only moved from Russia a year before and still had no friends, but Yao took him under his wing and befriended him. Ivan latched on and followed him everywhere. We all thought it was okay. He had been lonely. We thought he was just loyal. Until every one of Yao's friends started avoiding him. Yao was hurt but Ivan assured him that he wasn't at fault and that they weren't really his friends if they'd leave him like that. Yao thought no more of it." Alfred glanced at Arthur at the pause, confusion in his eyes.

"Yao has a brother named Leon. He was also in 6th grade, and in Ivan's class. Ivan and Leon weren't as close as Ivan and Yao were, but they still spent some time together, especially when they hung out with Yao. Yao adored his brother and Leon loved Yao. They were extremely close. Leon wasn't as boisterous or outgoing as Yao, and wasn't very self-confident." Alfred's heart ached.

"Yao didn't notice at first, then, when Leon began getting quitter and quieter. He stopped participating in class, stopped hanging out with his friends, and spoke more quietly. Ivan never really suspected a thing. By that point, he was always with Ivan. He only began to notice when Leon stopped talking to him and refused to meet his eyes. He couldn't understand it, and no matter what he said, the behavior didn't change. Throughout all of this, Ivan stayed close, always willing to listen to Yao's troubles and give him advice. And then, _it _happened." Arthur swallowed, afraid to utter the next words and break Alfred's silence.

"Leon tried to kill himself."

For a moment, everything froze. Then Alfred shot to his feet with a cry. "What? Why? Are you serious? Did he succeed?"

"Fortunately, no. He slit his wrists, but they were able to stem the bleeding in time. He hasn't spoken a word since. He is now studying at home. After that, though, Yao became very upset and confronted Ivan. I don't know how he found out, but he heard that Ivan had destroyed Leon's self-worth, convincing him that Yao and all his friends hated him. With someone like Leon, it's not very hard to imagine that working. Anyway, Ivan and Yao had a huge falling out and Yao ended up in a hospital for a month and Ivan was suspended, missing finals and ultimately being held back a year."

Alfred couldn't articulate how he was feeling right now. He was horrified. And part of him wanted to call Arthur a liar, and yet- He knew very well that such a thing could happen with Ivan. He still didn't want to believe it. To think Ivan drove someone to suicide with mere words! Alfred couldn't hold back a shudder. To think that words could have such a powerful hold over someone's life was scary.

"Alfred," Arthur began again, "I'm really sorry. But do you see why I don't want you or anyone else to be around him?"

Alfred flashed him a bitter smile. "Thanks, Arthur. I'm glad you're looking out for me."

Arthur nodded curtly, not overly comfortable with all the emotion being displayed. "Well, then. I'd better go."

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me know."

Alfred closed the door behind his cousin and his face fell. His eyes landed on the papers on his desk and, in a fit of rage, he shredded them to bits, flinging them around him.

He just didn't know what to do anymore.

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><p><strong>Might be able to work more over break.<strong>

**Mentioned a few things in this chapter that tie in things from the past if you caught them. **

**what Ivan says pretty much means 'I'm sorry for what I've done" in chinese.**

**Anyway, please leave a review. You guys make me so happy, and I really need some of that right now.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	36. The Breaking Point

**Hey guys. Thanks for all your support. It was a rough couple of weeks, but I got through it and am now on spring break! I got to surprise my family. they didn't think I'd be able to get home and I told them I had plans so they were all sad, but I secretly set up a ride home and my older sister was the only one in on it, and she picked me up from the drop-off point and took me to her house. Then, on my sister's 18th birthday, which was the next day, she went to their house for dinner and I popped out of the trunk of her car! It was the greatest! They were all screaming and crying and it was hilarious. **

**Anyway, this is a kinda angsty Lovino chapter. He's kinda taking over the fic, isn't he?**

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><p>Ivan didn't show up for class the next day. If he was being honest to himself, Alfred was a little glad. He didn't know how to deal with the information he'd received the previous night, and would probably have ended up avoiding Ivan anyway. Was what Arthur had told him true? And what about Yao? Why hadn't he said anything to Alfred about Ivan?<p>

Lovino, too, was acting strange when they met up for lunch in a random classroom. Because of the awful weather, they hadn't been able to be outside for a long while and Alfred found himself missing the sun and flowers, as rare as they were in this blasted place. He munched on his PB&J sandwich and glanced at his companion. Lovino was quieter and for some reason, had a scarf flung fashionably around his neck. Well, he was Italian, so maybe that was why. Alfred didn't know a thing about fashion. He crumpled up his napkin and threw it in the trash, settling himself next to his unusually taciturn friend.

"Sooo, what's up?"

Lovino barely acknowledged him, merely grunting and teasing his pasta with a fork. He hadn't been able to get much sleep, his tumultuous thoughts keeping him awake. Should he tell Alfred? Would Alfred even believe him? And if he did, would he avoid Ivan? Then, at least, he'd have Alfred to himself. But why couldn't he get that image of Ivan trembling and weeping out of his head?

Despite Alfred's best attempts to get him to talk, Lovino remained lost in his own thoughts for the rest of the day.

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><p>When he got home that evening to the delicious smells of cooking pasta and the cheerful sounds of chattering in Italian, Lovino's mood was dark and stormy. He hadn't been able to focus on school all day and had been called out on it by his teachers, one of whom even gave him a pink slip when he mouthed back. He hadn't given it to his <em>Nonno<em>, already anticipating the disappointment in his eyes. Feliciano never got pink slips. He tried to sneak past the kitchen and into his room, but to no avail. The closing of the entryway door had alerted the bubbly Italians in the kitchen that he was home and his grandfather grabbed his arm before he could flee up the stairwell. Lovino sighed and wrenched his arm away.

"Lovino. What happened at school today?"

Ugh. So he knew about it. Of course his teacher would go straight to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lovino stubbornly crossed his arms and made certain his face was neutral. He couldn't show any emotion when talking to _Nonno_, or it would be used against him.

"Mr. Whitely came to me about you today. He said you were ignoring him and when he reprimanded you that you told him to 'piss off.' I am extremely disappointed in you, Lovino. I thought you'd been getting better lately. Though, I suppose this is to be expected. You always revert back, don't you?"

Lovino glared at a spot on the wall. This is what he hated most about talking with _Nonno_. He never asked Lovino what was going on or why he was doing something. He never even asked if he'd actually done it. He just assumed that Lovino was a screw up and that it was in his nature to do such things.

"No dinner for you tonight and I expect you to have a written apology ready for Mr. Whitely tomorrow. And don't let me hear about anything like this happening again."

Lovino's stomach twisted painfully. He blamed it on the hunger, as he barely ate any lunch that day. He didn't want to think about any other reasons. He hoisted his backpack onto his back and turned with a sniff and his stubborn blank mask on his face. Before he left, he couldn't help but have the last word.

"It's not like I'd want to eat with you bastards anyway. Wouldn't want to ruin your idiotic happy time with my presence."

"What was that?" He heard the dangerous tone in his grandfather's voice but didn't care. What did it matter? He was already in trouble and nobody cared to hear his side of the story.

"Oh, nothing. Just didn't want to pollute the taste of pasta by being around, seeing as I spoil everything. Why do I even come here? This is no home."

Romulus grabbed Lovino's shoulder and swung the boy around to face him. Lovino tried not to flinch away from the anger in his eyes and the grip he had on Lovino's shoulder. "Try saying that again, Lovino"

"I said," Lovino repeated matter-of factly, "that this is no home. It's not like you even want me here. You'd be perfectly happy with just Feliciano." He glanced at his brother, who stood against the wall looking confused and lost. He felt an overwhelming anger at Feli, but immediately quelled it. He couldn't help it if everyone liked him. "Why didn't you just leave me at the orphanage. I thought you were going to, you know. Now, I wish you had."

"Don't say such things." Romulus growled. "I am your grandfather. Of course I would take you in. And where is this coming from? You've never questioned this before."

"So it was a sense of duty."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You felt like you needed to."

"Of course. I am your only living relative."

"So, what if you weren't."

"What?"

"What if you weren't my only living relative. What if there was someone else to take me in. And you got to keep Feliciano. Would you still want me?" Lovino didn't know why he was even saying this. Did he even want to know his grandfather's answer? Not unless it was the answer he wanted. And would it be?

Suddenly, Lovino was terrified. He wanted to stop his ears and run away. He felt like it had been an eternity since he had spoken and when he looked up, it was into the shocked eyes of his speechless grandfather. No answer. Well, no answer was an answer of its own, wasn't it?

Lovino smirked and pushed his grandfather away, calmly ascending to his room and gently closing the door behind him. He grinned into the darkness and let out a small laugh. He suddenly began to chuckle and then to gasp for air, laughing and grabbing at his sides.

He had his answer.

He laughed and laughed as tears poured down his cheeks, but he took no notice.

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><p><strong>#sorrynotsorry<strong>

**I love you guys! Thanks for all you support and reviews and everything!**

**Also, have you guys seen the latest Age of Ultron trailer? OMG! I'm freaking out. Can't waitttttt!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	37. A Friendly Face

**Hey peeps. Happy Easter! I hope you all had a great one. Mine was lovely, even though I only got one day off for break. Ugh. I also chopped all my hair off. It's a pixie cut now and I'm basking in my new-found freedom!**

**Sorry this update is so late. Lots of midterms and essays, and they have to come first. Hopefully I'll have another update out before finals week, which is the first week of May.**

**This chapter is kinda filler-y, but I've been neglecting Kiku, so here ya go.**

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><p>Lovino didn't go to school the next day. He kept his door locked, ignoring the pounding of Feliciano's fists. His grandfather hadn't tried to come to him once. Not that he'd expected him to. After they both left for school, Lovino considered going as well, of only to see Alfred, but the thought of meeting his grandfather after such a fight was repulsive enough to keep him away.<p>

Alfred, meanwhile, was having a particularly awful day. Neither Lovino nor Ivan was at school, and all the friends he had previously made still acted jumpy and wary around him. He sat alone all day, pondering the dilemma before him. How should he treat Ivan? If what Arthur said was true, Ivan had ruined Yao's brother, driving him to commit suicide. From what Alfred had heard, Leon was a gentle and kind person, just like Matthew had been. Ivan had used that against him, just as Carlos had bullied his brother. What would he have done if Matthew were to have tried to commit suicide over something Carlos said or did? Alfred couldn't bear the thought.

Alfred didn't notice he had company at lunch until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Kiku!" He couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. Kiku hadn't approached him in quite a while, and he'd thought his friend had been avoiding him. "I haven't seen you in while. What's up?"

Kiku smiled. "I noticed you were alone. Where are Ivan-san and Lovino-san?" Kiku glanced around warily.

"I have no idea." Alfred's shoulders slumped and he dug into his sandwich with a resigned sigh.

"Would you mind if I joined you, then?"

Alfred grinned and gestured to the seat next to him and Kiku took it.

"So what's up with you, bro?"

"The regular. Plenty of school, though I don't mind that."

"Yeah."

"The latest _Naruto_ manga came out. I just received it in the mail. Would you like to borrow it?"

"Sure."

There was a pause, as Kiku examined his friend. "Are you alright, Alfred? You seem a little off."

Alfred sighed. "There's just a lot of things on my plate right now. It'll pass."

"You can talk to me, if it would help."

Alfred glanced up and saw the worry in his friend's eyes. He smiled. Even though he felt confused and alone, he still had people who cared about him and would be there for him.

"It's no biggie. I'm working it out. Though," He pondered, "maybe you could tell me something."

"I'll do my best." Kiku replied solemnly, opening his _bento_ and muttering '_Itadakimasu'_ to himself.

"Did you know Leon Wang?"

Kiku choked on his _onigiri_ and began to cough. Alfred pounded on his back and handed him a bottle of water. Once the coughing had died down, Kiku wiped his eyes and glanced at Alfred in shock.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"Arthur told me about what happened to Yao's little brother. I guess he was worried the same thing would happen to me if I hung out with Ivan any longer."

Kiku made a noncommittal noise and continued to eat his lunch in silence. Alfred doubted that he would get his answer from the stoic boy, until, near the end of the meal, Kiku cleared his throat. Alfred looked at him with expectation.

"I knew Leon." Kiku said at last. "We actually used to be fairly close. I was friends with Leon and Yao both. I'm not sure when that changed. Probably when the rumors started."

"Rumors?"

"_Hai_. Rumors. Ivan had recently come to the school. We knew little about him at the time and his English was still quite basic. However, Yao took a liking to him and Ivan began to follow him everywhere. No one really thought much of it until we realized that Ivan was a little possessive."

Alfred snorted. A little?

"Eventually, Yao's friends just started falling away. No one really knew why, but they seemed scared of Yao. There were stories going around about Yao hurting or threatening them, though no one could identify the origins of these stories. It did not really matter either way. They worked their poison. People began avoiding Yao and around the same time, Leon grew more and more shy. I tried to spend time with him now and then, but he became so reclusive that I gave in." Here Kiku looked ashamed. "I suppose I could have stopped what happened if I had been more aware, but instead I began to spend time with Herakles and Sadiq. When Leon tried to kill himself we were all shocked. He would talk to no one and even when we visited him in the hospital, he turned us away."

Alfred stared at the floor morosely. He still couldn't get the image out of his head of Ivan breaking a person so cruelly. "What happened after that?"

"Nothing, really." Kiku sighed. "Ivan was suspended and Yao was left friendless. Leon has not shown his face to us since." The Japanese boy gazed off in the distance, a contemplating look on his face. "I wonder what I would do if I saw him again."

"Do you wish you could still be friends?"

Kiku smiled sadly. "Leon was a kind and gentle person. He was a good friend. I only wish I could have been the same for him."

The bell rang for lunch and Alfred crumpled his trash. "Thanks for telling me, man." He gently cuffed Kiku on the shoulder. The boy still seemed to be lost in thought. Alfred rose to walk away, but turned back at the last moment.

"And any time you're free, maybe I can take that new _Naruto_ manga off your hands for a bit."

Kiku couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

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><p><strong>Sorry. I suck for not having a longer chapter for you. Still, thanks so much for the support. It really keeps me going! <strong>

**Hope you guys have an awesome rest of your time until we meet again!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	38. The Chance

**Hey guys, another shortish chapter, though it's important and kinda ends in a cliffhanger. Hehe.**

**School is so crazy right now. I have an oral exam, 2 concerts to prepare for and 3 essays due all this week, as well as preparing for finals! It's crazy!**

**Thanks so much for your support!**

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><p>Alfred still hadn't figured out what to do by the next day. Unfortunately for him, time moved forward and Lovino and Alfred were both present at school. He ended up avoiding both of them for most of the morning out of sheer discomfort, and he couldn't help but notice the tense atmosphere between them.<p>

At lunch, he went to the empty classroom where he usually met Lovino and ate there. He wasn't surprised when Lovino showed up and sat next to him. The Italian had taken to wearing scarves everywhere, but as it was getting colder, Alfred didn't give it much thought. Though they passed pleasant conversation, Alfred still felt something was missing. Lovino was acting strangely and most of Alfred's thoughts were centered around Ivan and what was to be done with him. He didn't notice Lovino had been asking him a question until he saw the annoyed glare on Lovino's face directed at him.

"Umm.. what?"

Lovino snorted and turned away. "Never mind, jerk. If you're going to ignore me, why should I talk to you, huh? Cheh."

"Sorry, Lovino," Alfred rubbed his head sheepishly, "I have a lot on my mind. What's up?"

"I asked where that big Russian _bastardo_ was."

Alfred munched on his sandwich and shrugged. "I don't actually know." He replied, trying to keep any real emotion from coming through his voice.

Lovino narrowed his eyes and nodded stiffly, but didn't say any more on the subject, and the rest of lunch passed in silence.

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><p>The following days passed likewise. Alfred hung out with Lovino, but the conversation grew tenser as time went on. Ivan was rarely seen except for in class, and he seemed more withdrawn than ever. Alfred didn't try to speak to him, but when he and Lovino passed him in the hallways, Ivan always seemed almost frightened, his eyes downcast and his shoulders tense. Once, Alfred glanced over at Lovino during one of these interactions and was confused and worried by what he saw. Lovino was smiling, a dark sort of humor in his eyes.<p>

Alfred didn't understand.

He decided to bring up his issue about Ivan the next day, when once again they lunched together.

Alfred chewed his Sloppy Joe thoughtfully, ignoring the disgusted looks Lovino shot him due to the messy food. He jokingly offered Lovino a bite of the sandwich and laughed at the horror on his friend's face.

"So what's up with Ivan, huh?" Alfred remarked casually. He didn't really know how to approach the subject, and his nervousness made itself clear through his awkward, joking speech. He cleared his throat and tried a more serious approach. "Umm.. I was just wondering if you noticed how strangely he's been acting."

Lovino stiffened at the mention of the Russian boy and turned to Alfred with a blank stare. "Why would I care about that _bastardo_?" He muttered and looked away.

"Yeah, I guess." Alfred frowned. Lovino didn't seem to like Ivan in the first place so it wasn't surprising that he hadn't cared to notice that the Russian teen was a little off lately. "I just don't know how to act about him lately. I found out some stuff, and… I don't know. I just don't know how to feel."

Lovino stared blankly at the floor, not sure what to think or how to feel. This is what he wanted, wasn't it? Didn't he wish Alfred would avoid Ivan? That way, he could have his friend all to himself. He could finally have something of his very own, not Feliciano's, not Grandpa's, a friend of his own that he wouldn't have to share. Isn't that what he always wanted?

Then why was he feeling so conflicted?

He had a chance to have all he had wished for and this was the time to take it. All he had to do was remove his scarf and show Alfred the bruises. Tell him what Ivan had tried to do. Alfred would turn from Ivan immediately, seeing him for the villain he truly was. Alfred would be safe from Ivan's cruelty.

Lovino had the chance to make things right. So why did it feel so wrong?

He shook himself from his confusion.

Now was the time to be strong.

Now was the time to speak.

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><p><strong>So Alfred and Lovino both have a lot on their plates and hard decisions to make. What will Lovino say? You'll have to wait and see!<strong>

**OMG I CANT BELIEVE AGE OF ULTRON COMES OUT SO SOON! IT COMES OUT THE DAY BEFORE ONE OF MY 8AM FINALS BUT I DONT CARE I WANNA GO TO THE MIDNIGHT PREMIER! I mean, there's always gonna be more finals, but there will only ever be one Age of Ultron midnight premier.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	39. Sacrifice and Realization

**Thanks for waiting guys! I'm finally back home and writing again. **

**Please tell me you guys have been reading the latest Hetalia chapters with Romano and America. So cute!  
><strong>

**Enjoy the chapter! It's pretty long. Yay!**

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><p>Ivan was numb. Ever since his confrontation with Lovino, Ivan had not seen Alfred for lunch. When in class, Alfred avoided him. Everything was so wrong. Alfred had <em>chosen<em> him. He didn't even need to be persuaded. He chose _Ivan_. So why was he now throwing him away? He couldn't really abandon him, could he? Alfred was good and kind, and it would be unheroic to leave Ivan in the cold. He wouldn't do that. Would he?

Ivan felt a deep pain in his chest as he remembered Yao's comforting words. Yao was the one person who had forgiven him without his needing to ask. But even Yao would not stay with him forever. Everyone left him, eventually. Was it Alfred's time to leave?

He hunched his shoulders, burying the lower half of his face into his ever-present scarf. He passed Eduard and Raivis, his former friends and tried not to burrow himself deeper into his scarf to hide from the looks on their faces: complete and utter apathy. They didn't even hate him. They didn't care whether or not he lived or died. He meant nothing to them, and that hurt more than anything they could have done to him.

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><p>"Alfred-" Lovino broke off. He didn't know how to tell Alfred about what Ivan had done to him, but it had to be done. It was for Alfred's protection.<p>

And yet, that little voice inside that constantly mocked and undermined him whispered to him in dulcet tones. _Are you sure it's not for _your_ protection? You're selfish. You only care what happens to you. You want to keep him to yourself. _Lovino shut out his inner voice. Of course he wanted to keep himself safe. He wanted happiness for his own. Was that so wrong?_ And you would ensure that Ivan loses all chance of happiness?_ It had to be done. For Alfred. _For you._

Alfred was now looking at him with a very concerned face. Lovino tried not to feel pleased that someone cared so much. He was going to hurt Alfred with this information, and that would hurt him as well. But it had to be done. And yet-

Ivan's babbled nonsense and sobbing echoed through his mind like a phantom, and his heart clenched. The image of the Russian curled in upon himself, weeping as if his heart would break, actually gave Lovino pain. Could he really live with himself if Ivan was left all alone? Could he really do that to Ivan, no matter how cruel the boy had been to him? Could he force someone into complete solitude?

No. He knew solitude. He knew how it ached to be completely and utterly alone and unwanted in the world: to have no one care what happened to him at all. And even though he'd only known Alfred for a couple short months, he had hoped that Alfred would be that for him.

But maybe… maybe Ivan needed that too.

"Alfred, you suck."

Alfred jolted at the venom in his friend's voice.

Lovino barely registered the shock in the blonde's reaction. "You lead Ivan on, playing on his need for friends. You befriended him before you knew what he had done to Leon Wang. Why, then, are you turning against him now? He _needs_ you." _Just like I need you. I need you to be save me. I'm drowning. Save me!_ "How can you not get that? You were helping him realize his humanity. If you ditch him now, you will be a worse villain than he ever unintentionally was. And if you truly are the kind of person who uses others and then leaves them in the dust, I never want you to speak to me again."

And with that, he strode away, leaving Alfred gaping and alone.

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><p>Ivan glanced out at the gray, weeping sky and sighed. He was alone. No one cared for him. Lovino had won Alfred. There was nothing left for him. His <em>sestra<em> had tried to force him to talk to her again. When he refused, she left in tears. He couldn't do anything right. Did it even matter anymore? He wandered to the roof and found himself gazing at the ground so many feet below. He leaned over the railing just to test his resolve. Would anyone care if he fell? Would they rejoice? Would they cry? Would they feel absolutely nothing to the point of leaving his body to rot, not even bothering to bury him and instead proceed with their daily lives, merely stepping around his cold corpse?

He laughed at the thought.

He relished in the laugh.

He leaned further.

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><p>As was often the case when he was upset, Lovino found himself in the greenhouse, weeding his little garden. He vindictively plucked the sprouts of weeds that dared threaten the lives of his tomatoes, ripping the pests in half for extra measure.<p>

"_Holaaaaa_! Loviiiiii!"

Ugh. Speaking of pests.

He found himself being the unwilling recipient of a very ungraceful glomp. The cheery laughter only grated on his already frayed nerves.

"Ah, Lovi, I've missed you so! I've seen Feli around and he's looking as adorable as ever. I'm so happy that I get to see you! Have you missed me? Ah, look at that frown! I've missed your precious frown and your precious pouting, Lovi. What have you missed about me? Everything, _si_? We used to have so much time together, but we're in different classes and you don't come to my house anymore, which makes me sad, because I've gotten quite good at making _churros_ and I wish I could share them with you, but at least Francis and Gil eat them and they say they're super good. Lovi, you wouldn't believe the funny thing Francis said the other day, I was laughing so hard! He said-"

"Shut UP! Lovino growled so dangerously that the Spaniard released him immediately and stared at Lovino with a hurt expression. Lovino didn't care. He had gone through far too much today to even want to consider dealing with Antonio. The image of his childhood friend brought out a whole other can of worms that he was not ready to open. The betrayal he had felt when Antonio chose Gilbert and Francis over him still cut deep and he couldn't deal with it right now. He had just lost the best friend he'd had in years. He didn't need to start thinking about the past.

He threw his tools down and stormed out, despite the pleas of his once-friend. Lovino ignored the single tear that ran down his smudged cheek, turning his face to the rain, trusting it to wash away all evidence of his inner turmoil.

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><p>Alfred still had trouble processing what had happened today. The hurt he felt at Lovino's words still raged within him. How could Lovino say those things? He never purposely led Ivan on. He never used what his friend wanted against him. He would never hurt someone like that. He wasn't a villain. He was a hero. Why had Lovino left him? Did he really not want to see him ever again? Why? What had he done? Lovino was supposed to be his friend. The first real one he made in England. The grumpy Italian was seen as volatile and mean by most, but Alfred knew Lovino just had trouble expressing himself. He knew Lovino was hurting. So why would Lovino hurt Alfred?<p>

He had said one thing true, though. Alfred had befriended Ivan before he knew about his past with Yao. Why did that change anything? He had hurt Yao and that was wrong. And the case of a hurting younger brother hit far too close to home. But, really. Did that change anything? Ivan was who he was. Alfred knew him. He was hurting and needed someone. If Alfred left him alone, would Ivan ever smile again? Would he ever shyly ask to be taught Chinese so he could say something important to someone and make things right? Would he ever joke and laugh? Would he ever touch a sunflower petal with reverence and murmur to himself in Russian?

No. Ivan needed Alfred. And Alfred needed Ivan: someone who he could be himself with. Someone he could tease and fight with and rib, because he knew Ivan wouldn't suffer from it. They needed each other.

But he needed Lovino too. Lovino was the first to really bring him in. Lovino was kind and caring. But Ivan and Lovino hated each other. Could he only have one or the other? Would Lovino refuse to speak to him in school if he approached him?

Could they really never get along?

And then, his eyes were opened.

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><p>Ivan stared at his ceiling, shame within him at his own cowardice and lack of conviction. He rolled over and gazed at the sunflower, listening to the harsh, hitching sounds of his own breathing. He was utterly alone.<p>

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><p>Lovino clutched his pillow. He had given up everything he ever wanted. <em>Nonno<em> belonged to Feliciano. Antonio belonged to Gilbert and Francis. _Alfred_. Alfred belonged to Ivan. And who did he belong to? No one. He was completely alone.

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><p>Alfred sketched and schemed late into the night. He was going to make this work. He refused to be alone ever again.<p>

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><p><strong>So guys, what did you think? Pretty emotional chapter, huh? Which part got to you the most? What do you think of Lovino's decision? What do you think Alfred's planning?<strong>

**Let me know!**

**Also, please tell me you guys saw Age of Ultron. That movie, man.**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	40. Memories

**Wow. 40 chapters. Time flies! Sorry this chapter is mostly memory. It's kinda important, though, to understand Gil. It's also rather short. I'm kinda only posting it because my sister said i was the ultimate trash for not posting yesterday so you can thank her. Also I'm sick which sucks. I'm gonna be working on this story a lot over the rest of this week, but I start work next wek so I might not be able to post every Tuesday.**

**I do not own Hetalia. However, I do own a recently sewn Romano plushie that will be holding a Spain tomato as soon as I'm finished.**

**For reference, the letter was from chapter 20. have you guys forgotten? tsk tsk**

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><p>Alfred fidgeted outside of Romulus Vargas' office. This time, he wasn't here for a reprimanding. He had to fix this. He straightened himself and knocked on the door.<p>

"Come in." he heard the accented voice and strode through. Romulus barely glanced up to acknowledge him before returning to his paperwork. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, a far cry from the usually bubbly president. Alfred closed the door behind him reluctantly, wondering whether this conversation would be smoother if it were saved for a better time. But no. It had to be done now.

"Alfred. What can I do for you today?" Romulus stopped shuffling papers to look up at him and Alfred noted how weary and worn he looked. He seemed to have aged a decade since Alfred last laid eyes on him.

"Well, actually, I'm not sure if you can." He immediately backtracked when he saw Romulus' no-nonsense expression. "I mean, I hope you can, but…" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fumbling like this was getting him nowhere. He had to get down to business.

"I have a proposal."

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><p>Gilbert Beilshmidt cracked open an eye and peered into the dimly lit classroom around him. He could hear the faint droning of teachers further down the hall and yawned. He'd overslept again, and there was no point getting to class now. Not that it mattered to him. He scratched at his head and lay back on the desk that was serving as a bed. He was awake now, and stared up at the ceiling trying to forget the dream or rather memory that had been haunting him since he received that letter. He had yet to open it, though many weeks had passed. The seemingly innocent white envelope with the familiar script marking it continued to lay there. He couldn't bring himself to throw it away for some reason, no matter how much he wanted to.<p>

_Mein Kleine Kämpfer._

_It was those words. Those familiar words that threw him back into a time where everything had been so simple. The phantom feeling of a hand on his head and a firm grip on his shouder; the distant sound of a rolling laugh and twin flutes, one halting and immature, the other seasoned and flowing; the cries of mock battle and cheers of childhood victory. They all resonated in his mind. He clenched his eyes shut and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until colors burst in front of his closed lids but he could still see the images in front of him._

_"__Kesesese! You are no match for the mighty armies of the great Prussian Empire, West! Give in now or die!" He waved a wooden sword at his little brother who stared at him across the gap of the great hall, his chubby face hidden under an enormous helmet and his arms propped up on the pillows that formed his citadel. _

_"I won't give in without a fight!" Ludwig replied with determination, and even though it was all play, Gilbert was filled with pride for his ambitious younger brother. He would really be something great some day. But first, he was going to be thoroughly beaten by the Kingdom of Prussia. _

_"Prepare to fall, West!" Gilbert launched one of the pillows across the gap at his brother, cackling with glee when it hit him in the face. Ludwig fell back with an 'oomph' and lay sprawled out on the ground staring at the ceiling. His lower lip wobbled. His eyes screwed up. He began to cry._

_"UUGH! West, be a man. You can't always cry when someone knocks you down!" This only made his little brother cry harder, and though Gilbert felt that Ludwig was being ridiculous and Girlbert was perfectly within his rights to attack an enemy, the crying was beginning to make him feel slightly guilty._

_"Bullying your enemies again, oh great Prussian General?" Gilbert turned and grinned at the sight of the elderly man. "You know there are rules about the treatment of prisoners."_

_"__Grossvater__." He beamed. Then glanced at his brother and pouted. "He's being a baby. I only threw a pillow at him."_

_His grandfather smiled and lifted Ludwig up and brushed him off, comforting him until he stopped crying. "Lutz is only four years old, Gil. Give him time and he'll be just as avid a fighter as you. After all, he has you to train him. I expect you to take care of your brother, Mr. Beilshmidt, and train him to be strong." He demanded in a very good impression of a commanding officer._

_Gilbert saluted him at attention. "Yes sir, sir! I will train him to be just like you."_

_The elderly man smiled at him sadly and fingered a delicate chain that Gilbert had never seen removed from his neck. "I hope not, my little soldier. I truly pray that he won't." _

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><p><strong>so ya. Sorry I'm just teasing you about Alfred's conclusion. hehe. Not actually all that sorry. I love suspense.<strong>

**Speaking of suspense, that Agents of Shield finale? Ouch.**

**What's you guys think? Let me know! As always, thanks for the support!**

**~sparklybutterfly42**

**8i8**


	41. Meeting in the Middle

**TADAIMA~ (I'm looking at you, RussianMochi!) Everyone thank RussianMochi for inspiring me with a lovely anime shark bursting through a door GIF. Totally got me into gear to write this chapter!**

**So sorry for the delay. I've had the dreaded writer's block for so long and I had lots of trouble with this chapter especially, but this is a nice long one and I think it went quite well. I also have to blame my poor fangirling heart for the delay. Had to finish Merlin and it literally ripped my soul out. I'm still recovering. Also started Dr. Who and am already obsessed. **

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><p>When Ivan arrived at his locker the next day, the last thing he ever expected was to see Alfred waiting for him. The blonde had been steadfastly been avoiding him for days, and it was even more shocking to see him without his evil Italian leech. Ivan forced back the growl that threatened to exit his throat at the thought of Lovino who had told Alfred about the little incident in the classroom and poisoned him against Ivan. However, if he really had told, why would Alfred be here right now? Probably here to threaten him. Ivan schooled his expression into a mask of indifference, hiding all weaknesses from sight. But then again, Alfred had seen through his mask before. Who's to say this was any different?<p>

If at all possible, Alfred looked as uncomfortable as Ivan felt on the inside, which somehow gave the Russian more courage. He brushed past Alfred and opened his locker, taking out his books for the next period. Alfred shifted behind him.

"Hey Ivan." Alfred winced at how wavering his voice was. He cleared his throat and began again, stronger. "I guess I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yes," Ivan agreed amiably, "It has indeed been a while. And whose fault is that, do you think?"

Alfred flinched as Ivan smiled at him. It was the old smile he would always show, before Alfred got to know the real Ivan. This was the smile that spoke of years of loneliness and mistrust: a mask that could fool the world.

"I know. I'm really sorry, Ivan. I screwed up." Alfred ran a hand through his messy hair. "I know you feel betrayed and I admit I was wrong. I just want to show you something. Please give me a chance again."

Ivan bit his lip. Why should he give Alfred another chance? Hadn't Alfred shown him the damage a human could do? Placing trust in others could never bring him happiness, only betrayal and loss. And yet- Alfred looked so hopeful. Would it really hurt to hear him out?

"Please, Ivan. _Please_."

Ivan looked into Alfred's pleading eyes and saw no lies, no cruelty. Perhaps he should give him another chance.

He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, slamming his locker closed.

He pretended the loud metallic clang drowned out the sound of Alfred's relieved sigh and heartfelt thanks.

Perhaps one more chance wouldn't hurt.

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><p>Alfred wished things had gone over better with Lovino. From the beginning, the fiery Italian spit curses and sharp words at him, refusing to be seen with a 'witless pathetic <em>bastardo<em> who can only ruin lives'. Yet even he grudgingly agreed, among barbed insults, to meet him after school.

Alfred really couldn't understand what was going on with Lovino. One second he had been asking the advice of his friend and the next second, said friend was yelling at him and refusing to see him again. And he had stayed true to his word until now, faithfully avoiding Alfred in class and out. And Alfred couldn't figure out why! What had he done that caused his friend to abandon him?

Whatever it was, he would find out and fix it. He refused to sit by and watch as those he cared for slipped through his fingers. Never again.

* * *

><p>Alfred stopped in the doorway at the tension in the room. Looks like Ivan and Lovino arrived before him. Oops. He gingerly stepped forward.<p>

"Hey guys." Okay, yeah. Those glares were now pointed at him. Ivan and Lovino were both obviously quite unhappy to be here, especially in each other's presence. Alfred straightened and passed between them, settling himself at a desk and gesturing to two other chairs. Ivan and Lovino shot both shot the other another poisonous glance but approached and sat.

Alfred felt the weight of their gaze upon him and the gravity of the situation hit him. He had one chance at this. He had to get them to understand what he wanted to say: that he needed them both in his life.

"I know things have been a little weird lately. I'm sorry. And I just want to understand what's going on. I know I screwed up, but I just need you to tell me what's going on or I'll never understand, really."

Ivan and Lovino remained silent, staring at the desk in front of them.

"Come on. Just talk to me. I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed," He joked, trying to lighten the mood, "and I'm not a mind reader. I need you to tell me when I do something wrong. Please."

Lovino looked at Alfred shrewdly, searching his face for any form of guile. Apparently satisfied, he nodded once. Ivan, too, nodded, though more hesitantly, as he continued to fiddle with his fingers.

"Ivan," Alfred leaned forward earnestly and caught the gaze of his friend, trying to prove to him how much he wanted to make things right. "I'm really, really sorry for avoiding you. It's just that I found out about something you did." Ivan tensed and his eyes widened in fear. "It's okay. It was a long time ago and I know you've changed and it was wrong of me to change my view of you because of something I learned later. I know that now. You have Lovino to thank for that." Ivan relaxed slightly when Alfred began reassuring him, but shot Lovino a confused and- relieved?- look and then turned his eyes back to Alfred.

"It's alright, Alfred. I understand."

"No. It's not alright. It was wrong of me so don't think it's okay. It's not. Understand?" Alfred was slightly mollified by Ivan's accepting nod, as reluctant as it was. Of course Ivan, who had been rejected so much, wouldn't think it was a big deal.

"Look, guys, the truth is that I really need you both. I've lost so much in my life and I know both of you have too. Is it so bad to want something for yourself once in a while?" Neither of his friends seemed willing to disagree that point. "Well I'm tired of losing and being alone. I know you feel it too. You feel the loss and the loneliness and you wonder whether there's any point in going on. There is. As long as people care about you, there's a reason to live. And I care about you both. So can't we all just… get along?"

Ivan looked up at Alfred with such hope it almost broke his heart. Lovino refused to raise his head from the table, but Alfred swore he saw tears in his eyes.

"I know you don't really get along, and, well. I've been trying to think of something you both have in common: something that can bring you together. It doesn't have to be a huge deal. Sometimes it just has to be something small that gets the relationship started and then you can build up from there. So… well I thought of something and it might be a start. I've already cleared it with the prez, so… here." He opened his bag and pulled out a folder, laying it in front of them.

Tentatively, Ivan flipped it open and gasped at what he saw: sketches of a domed building, calculations, notes and most importantly, _sunflowers_. Pages and pages of the beautiful flowers in varying stages of development teeming with life inside a beautiful glass pavilion. Tasteful yet comfortable furniture was sketched on the pages.

"It's still in its development stage, so if you have any ideas, just lay 'em on the table." Alfred offered in an appeasing manner. "I haven't really settled on a name yet, though I was thinking _Campo di Girasoli_."

"Field of Sunflowers," Lovino murmured, eyes glued to the sheets of paper.

"Yeah. I know Ivan loves sunflowers and Lovino loves to garden, so I thought this would be a cool place for you both to get to know each other. We could hang out in here in the colder months. It'll be warm and beautiful and we'll be surrounded by friends. We'll never be alone again. What do you say? Will you give it a chance?" _Will you give me a chance?_

Ivan touched the glossy photos of the yellow flowers and smiled.

Alfred knew it would take a while to build a relationship and erase the animosity between these two, but as he witnissed the smils on their faces, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. It would work out. He knew it would. Because they were willing to try. Because they refused to be alone anymore.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think! Are there any characters you've been missing and want to see again? What do you think of Alfred's idea? It's almost resolved and then we'll move on to the next phase of the story! Of course, their relationship will progress slowly though. These things take time. They won't really be the main focus coming up but they'll definitely remain important! Let me know what you're thinking!<strong>

**Also, I just have to say that while Alfred was talking about loss, all I could think of was Star Lord's (un)inspiring losers speech in Guardians of the Galaxy. Maybe because I'm wearing a Star Lord shirt. Lol.**

**Love you guys! Thanks, as always, for your support! **

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	42. Reprieve

**Hi Guys. I meant to post this last week but I had full time shifts three days in a row in a row in the room of devil children (AKA one year olds) and literally had an emotional breakdown. Also I feel kinda sick today so this one is short. Sorry. Its been a rough couple weeks. **

**I really like this chapter, despite it being short and pretty filler. Please tell me what you think!**

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><p>Alfred abruptly came into awareness, his body tensed and bathed in sweat. He stared into the darkness of his bedroom, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim space around him and blinking away tears. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes, blinking to see the face of his digital clock. 4:37. Well, he wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight. He rubbed his hand down the length of his face, stopping as it covered his mouth and staring into the darkness, revisiting the images. The blood. The screams. The frozen horror and following days of numb listlessness. Alfred clutched his trembling arms and wished he could forget the nightmares. But they were more than that. They were memories. They were a part of him that could never be erased no matter how much he begged and pleaded for God to give him a second chance: to call out, to move faster. Anything.<p>

Alfred didn't believe in karma, but if he did, he'd attribute these haunting memories as karma paying him back for his failures. But then where were his gains? Hadn't he lost enough in his life? When would he start truly gaining? When would he have something of his own that he could keep and protect? When would he actually succeed?

He forcefully shoved his mind away from that path and untangled the sheets that must have been twisted around his legs during his fitful night. He was gaining so much. Ivan and Lovino had agreed to try to get along and the _Campo di Girasoli _was under construction. His other friends still seemed wary of him, but he had hope that they would come around soon. He had his cousins and a supportive aunt and uncle. Life wasn't perfect, but it was good. _But how long could it stay that way? _A tiny voice whispered. _All good things end, especially for you. They end in the cruelest ways possible._

"Not this time." He murmured to himself, but his voice wasn't nearly as confident as he would have liked. He rubbed his eyes again and perched his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Stumbling down the stairs, he wandered into the kitchen and, to his surprise, found that another person was awake. He tried not to feel suddenly and childishly comforted that his ever elegant aunt was sitting in her dressing robe sipping her tea in a pristine manner and reading a book. She glanced up, startled by the appearance and probably expecting her husband, but her smile dropped when she saw Alfred, pale and wan. Rising abruptly and placing her cup and book down, she opened her arms.

Without a moment of hesitation, Alfred crossed the floor and flung himself into the arms of the smaller woman, shuddering and gasping. He fought the tears that welled in his eyes, repressing them before they managed to spill. He wouldn't cry. Ever. Not where others could see, especially his aunt. And yet-

She was so different, Aunt Meg. So unlike his own mother, and though he really tried not to compare the two lest he hurt the memory of his mother, he couldn't help but see the drastic differences. Aunt Meg was strong. She was only a little smaller than himself, and her frame was thin and willowy, but her arms around him were strong and all-encompassing. There was a strength in her eyes and her smile and her voice that his mother had never possessed. She had been weak. She cried easily and laughed gently. She moved slowly and softly and she was always more an idea to Alfred than a form. Her eyes were soft and sorrowful, until the last year of her life, where they were dead and vacant, her once-soft and flowing hair limp and lifeless. She had never been someone Alfred could confide in. She was never overly loving or comforting to him and he refused to cry or get angry in front of her for fear it shock and hurt her.

Matthew had been similar to their mother. He was kind and gentle and far softer around the edges than wild and rambunctious Alfred, but he could also be strong. Far too strong and too stupid and too stubborn and _why couldn't he have listened why couldn't he have waited why did he have to go. _

Alfred eventually stopped trembling and his aunt led him to a sofa and made him a cup of coffee. Throughout her comfort, she never once said anything, only held her nephew close and stroked his hair. Only Uncle Freddy had done that for him, after his family was ripped from him. He grabbed for the Star of David on the golden chain under his shirt and watched his aunt from the corner of his eye.

She moved with so much confidence and grace. He couldn't help but admire her. Her sons were lucky to have such a proud and confident mother on whom they could rely.

And he couldn't help but wonder… what would his life have been like if he was raised by Aunt Meg instead of his mother? Would he be more open about his troubles? Would he be more confident?

He quashed the thought. He loved his mother. She was a good woman.

_But was she a good mother?_

Aunt Meg smiled at him softly and he smiled back, if only to divert his attention from an answer he wasn't ready to give.

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><p><strong>So please let me know what you thought of it and how it pertains to the growing story. The next couple chapters are gonna be more setup and resolve and such, because we have another sub-plotarc coming up! Hope you're all as excited as I am!**

**Also, my 10 year old sister is writing Agents of Shield fanfiction. I'm so proud!**

**As always, thank you for your support!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	43. What's Inside

**Hey guys! Happy Independence Day! It's my favorite holiday ever. The three Fs: Food, Fireworks and FREEDOM. Oh, and fanfiction. yup. That's an important part too. Enjoy this amazing holiday! Unless your not American, then enjoy this amazing normalday!**

**Also happy belated Canada Day to all Canadians. I'm actually a little annoyed they didn't get a snapchat story.**

**Thanks to RussianMochi for giving me the prompt for the first part of this and going to see Inside Out with me, which inspired the last part. If you guys haven't seen Veggie Tales or Inside Out, you seriously need to. You're missing out, dudes.**

**I've been getting requests for more Kirkland bros, so they show up in this chapter.**

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><p>Lovino was startled from his homework by the stunned gasp emitted from the boy sitting across from him. Alfred's face was pale, his eyes wide with horror and glued to his phone screen. Lovino watched carefully. What could this bad news mean? Had something happened to the Kirklands? Was Alfred revisited by a memory from his mysterious past? Alfred had been less talkative lately. Ever since the mess with Ivan had been mostly cleared up, Alfred had taken to staring off into the distance with the strangest look on his face. It was something Lovino had never expected to see there and it worried him. He couldn't put his finger on the emotion but whenever Alfred caught him looking, he'd smile back and Lovino just let it go.<p>

Lovino caught Ivan's eye from across the table. The Russian also looked worried at their friend's pale face. Ivan and Lovino had been spending more time together, and though Lovino wouldn't yet call them friends, they were civil and had some things in common: foremost being the concern and affection they held for their friend Alfred.

Alfred's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled to come up with something to say. His friends watched him anxiously until he finally divulged the object of his horror.

Lovino and Ivan blinked. Staring back at them from the screen were a bunch of cartoon vegetables. Alfred began to babble about abominations and ruination of childhood as Lovino and Ivan just stared in utter incomprehension. What in the world did a bunch of vegetables have to do with childhood?

Alfred must have realized his friends didn't understand a bit of what was going on and calmed himself enough to explain what was going on.

"Veggie Tales is getting a 'New Look' and everything is changing! The characters look and sound different, the song is different, they live in some fancy cartoon house, they don't even talk about the bible anymore, and don't get me started on Bacon Bill! Seriously? It's Veggie Tales! Not Kitchen Tales! I'm all for diversity, you know, but meat isn't a vegetable! And they probably don't even have QWERTY anymore! It was bad enough when they made her into a flat screen computer. What's she gonna be now, a freaking smart phone with legs?" As his ire grew and his rant became louder, his accent slipped and grew stronger. Ivan and Lovino still didn't understand.

"You used to watch this show, then? A show about vegetables?" Ivan queried.

"Why?" Lovino muttered.

Alfred's angered breathing stopped short as he stared in shock. Did he really just hear that?

"You mean," Alfred hesitated, "You didn't?"

At his friends' blank looks, Alfred's horror returned. He abruptly stood, grabbed their arms and dragged them to the nearest empty classroom with a projector. He forced them to sit and quickly typed away at his laptop, bringing up a screen that read "Where's God When I'm S-scared?"

"Veggie Tales is amazing. It tells bible stories and moral lessons in ways that children can understand. Growing up in America as the son of a Baptist and an Anglican, it was basically all I watched at Sunday school. These videos are gold. They're my childhood. All the early ones are great. The ones made after 2000 start getting a little weird but at least it's not like what they've done now. They are remaking everything and it looks horrible. So we're gonna re-watch the good ones. To remember the old days."

Ivan and Lovino didn't really know what to say to that, so they sat silently and watched the videos.

And if either of them hummed the theme song for days afterward, they didn't really mind.

And if Ivan went home and promptly ordered a bunch of French Peas plushies online, he didn't tell anyone.

And if Lovino went home and continued watching episodes of Veggie Tales just for Bob the Tomato, he didn't let on.

And if Alfred sat on his bed that day after school and squeezed a small polar bear to himself and allowed his mind to fly back to a happier time, watching Veggie Tales and laughing with his brother and best friend Matthew, no one would ever know. This change of a childhood show may have seemed like a small thing to most people, but to him it was just another reminder that his childhood was long gone and he could never go back.

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><p>With everything that had been going on lately, Alfred hadn't had much of a chance to hang out with the Kirklands. He felt a little bad for ditching Arthur and his brothers for Ivan and Lovino's company, but that issue was much more pressing than his relationship with the brothers. They all treated him well, and though they hadn't had many real moments since the family game night so long ago, he was growing comfortable with them. But he didn't know if he could ever truly consider them family.<p>

He'd had a family once. And they had been wonderful. _Had_ been until everything fell to ruin. Aunt Meg was nothing like his mother and Uncle Charlie was glaringly different from his father. But was that a bad thing? Everything had gone south with his family, and it could at least be partly blamed on their faults. But everyone had faults. Aunt Meg and Uncle Charlie surely had faults of their own, as did all his cousins. Could he really even consider placing his trust and love in another family? What if they failed him? Would he ever be able to move on?

He knew one thing for certain. He could never replace Matthew. This pain in his heart at the thought of his twin would never lessen, and he truly didn't want it to. As long as he felt the pain, he had proof that his brilliant, kind and loyal little brother had lived, and he feared the day that time would lessen that pain. He never wanted to forget even for a second. He didn't want to move on.

He wanted Matthew.

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><p>That evening he convinced the brothers to go to a movie with him. And not just any movie, but Pixar's latest masterpiece, Inside Out. They all grumbled about being forced to see a kids movie, but at Alfred's scandalized look and strangled gasp at slandering Pixar, they quickly shut up. Peter, for one, was ecstatic at being invited to hang out with his hero and his brothers. Alfred and peter easily made up for the others' reticence with abounding enthusiasm.<p>

And when they left the theater two hours later, Alfred and Peter made a pact to never tell anyone how Alistair sobbed on Owain's shoulder or how the twins cuddled Arthur from both sides when he 'got something in his eye'.

And as Alfred looked up at the sky, stars barely visible through the light pollution, he considered his emotions in a different light. Sadness was important. You couldn't have happiness without it. But did he really want his happy memories with his brother to outlast the sadness of his death? When you cry over something, you can move on, and that was the last thing he wanted.

For once in a long, long time, Alfred was grateful to his father for never allowing him to cry.

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><p><strong>Shameless angst. Sorry.<strong>

**Seriously, though. Watch the early Veggie Tales. Are you my neighbor is one of my favorites cuz it has a Star Trek spoof in it. **

**Thanks guys, for all your support. Tell me what you thought!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	44. A Strange Feeling

**Guys I can't tell you how sorry I am that I haven't updated in forever and can only give you this small, unimportant chapter. Life has been crazy and rough and I haven't had nearly as much time as I thought I would. I'm so grateful for all your support, and I'd especially like to thank all gueast reviewers. I can't thank you personally, but you guys are awesome! **

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><p>Alfred blinked dully while gazing at his pile of barely edible cafeteria food. He'd forgotten to pack his own lunch and now had to eat something that only could have been produced when Arthur decided that cooking couldn't be <em>that<em> hard and he should give it a go.

He glanced around the crowded cafeteria. His weeks since Ivan and Lovino started bonding had been going much smoother. The two had really begun to enjoy each other's presence and Alfred often saw them together even when he hadn't planned meetings. He didn't know exactly what had made them bond so well, but he could only be happy for them. He squashed the small, seductive feeling of jealousy that rose whenever he saw them tending the slowly growing sunflowers or laughing over a joke to which he was not privy. He was happy they were friends. _Really_, he was. It was what he had wanted all along, after all, and yet even when they all ate together, he felt there was some distance between him and them.

His eyes darted across the faces in the cafeteria, looking for the familiar scowl of his Italian friend and the gentle smile of the Russian. He couldn't see them and lowered his eyes back to his food. He poked it again, sighing. He was probably being ridiculous. It's not like they would purposely block him out. It was surely his own jealousy that was seeing their budding friendship as a threat.

And now that he didn't have to worry about Ivan and Lovino as much, he had more time to rekindle some of his previous friendships. Kiku and he had spent quite a bit of time together the past couple weeks, playing video games, reading manga and comic books, and programming. Despite his very reserved outward appearance, Kiku was a total fanboy and Alfred swore that he once heard him squeal while gushing over Hatsune Miku.

Aside from Kiku, some of his other friends started talking to him again, despite his continued interaction with Ivan. Feliks and Toris talked to him in the halls and Elizaveta tried to convince him to wear 'something she'd found the other day in a little shop'. Alfred politely refused. He didn't like the sound of that one. Matthias had run into him the other day and greeted him with enthusiasm before being promptly dragged away by his tie by an ever emotionless Norwegian. Alfred appreciated the change in everyone's behavior, as it meant he could spend some time with friends other than Lovino and Ivan.

He glanced around the cafeteria again, hoping to see someone he could hang out with, but failing to do so. With a sigh, he stood and dumped his untouched slop in the trash, exiting the cafeteria. Maybe he'd go bother Arthur at the student council room. He gave the room one more cursory glance. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him…

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><p><strong>Hinting toward the next arc! Muahaha.<strong>

**What do you think? Is Alfred being unreasonable in his feelings? Are Ivan and Lovino truly ditching him? IS someone really watching him? What did Elizaveta want him to wear? Will Arthur _ever _cook something edible? Find out next time! Same bat time, same bat channel!**

**Again, so sorry I haven't been updating. Please encourage me with plenty of inspirational reviews!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hey Guys! Sorry for the delay. This was gonna be up yesterday but ff wasn't working. **

**So school started today and I already have 17 assignments. My school needs to take its prescription chill pills.**

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><p>Honestly, Alfred couldn't pin down the source of the uneasy feeling washing over him. He had felt like this for days: like someone was watching his every move. He started watching over his shoulder. He was jumpier than he'd ever been and it was starting to annoy him. It was probably all in his mind and yet he couldn't control it, which only made him more annoyed with himself. He growled under his breath when a fellow student brushed past him. What was up with him? He scanned the crowd of teeming students around him once more, though he wasn't sure what for. Just- something seemed off.<p>

It didn't take long for Lovino to confront him over his new attitude. The fiery Italian's glare was quite impressive as he stared down his friend, who was currently being held into his seat by Ivan. Lovino, of course, had noticed Alfred's recent attitude, and frankly it was starting to freak him out. Alfred was an honest and brave person, and for him to be so on guard made Lovino uneasy. Alfred wouldn't just work himself up over nothing. Lovino could tell Ivan was also worried for their friend. He and Ivan had been spending a lot of time together, trying to overcome their differences and find balance. Alfred wouldn't be happy if they were constantly fighting, after all.

Alfred glared right back at Lovino, though less bitingly. He was definitely annoyed at being ambushed, though also pleased to be with his friends once more. Maybe if he could tell them… But no. He could handle this- whatever it is- on his own. "What's your problem?" He finally ground out, annoyed with the uncomfortable silence.

"We were thinking of asking the same of you, _da_?" Ivan responded, stepping away from the struggling Alfred to stand next to Lovino. He was very worried for his friend: his first friend, to be precise. Alfred had been the only one to really stand up to him and then take time to know him and help him. He owed his current tentative friendship with Lovino to Alfred, as well as the school's general changing view of him, which, though slowly evolving, was more than he could've ever imagined before Alfred came.

"We've noticed how you've been acting, _idiota_." Lovino hyped up his glare to 'super scary but mostly worried'. "You've been jumpy and strange and we want to know why." His scowl became darker and more deadly. "Is someone threatening you?"

"We will 'take care of them' as you say." Ivan smiled that terrifyingly cold smile of his.

Alfred couldn't help but feel warmth flood his chest. "Nobody's threatening me. I'm fine."

"Then why?" Lovino frowned. "You were there for us when we needed someone. Why can't you let us be there for you? Isn't that what friends do?"

Alfred looked down, slightly ashamed to meet his friend's gaze. He had to deal with this on his own. He didn't want his friends worrying or getting paranoid on his behalf. Dad had always said that a man takes care of his business and protects those he loves from any strife. If only he'd followed his own advice. Alfred felt the stab of betrayal he always experienced when thinking of his father.

"You know I consider it my job to help people," Alfred argued. "I can take care of this myself."

He was definitely not expecting to be punched in the face.

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><p>Alfred clutched his throbbing jaw and stared wide-eyed at Lovino. The Italian was <em>fuming<em>. Lovino's fists were clenched so hard at his sides that his knuckles were bone white. His face was red and his body trembled with sheer anger. Ivan also looked at him in amazement, though he didn't make a move to step in. When Lovino finally calmed enough to speak, it was in a harsh whisper. His words, however, were clear and cut through the silence.

"Is that what we are to you? Your job? Your mission? Collect as many pathetic friendless people as you can and save them? Was I the only one who felt like there was more to our relationship than that? And what about Ivan? You didn't have to make friends with him. You didn't have to try and make us become friends. Was building the greenhouse and watching Veggie Tales your job?

"And what about how you were there for me when I needed you? When I felt like no one else cared, you were the only one who seemed to want anything to do with me. I felt like even my family didn't care about me and yet I felt like I finally had someone who did. Guess I was wrong."

Alfred continued to stare as Lovino tried to hold back tears. Ivan stood silently by, a unbearably sad expression on his childish face. Alfred couldn't even begin to sift through the feelings of guilt arising. Of course he didn't feel that way! He considered them his best friends and would never lead them on, making them think they were friends when he only considered them his work. But how could he tell them that? What could he possibly say to make them believe him?

"I don't know what it is lately," He began tentatively, "but I just don't feel at ease. It always feels like someone is watching me and it's just really starting to freak me out." He relaxed when he saw the tension in Lovino start to ease. "I honestly can't tell why I feel this way and it's just making me more anxious. Sorry I worried you, but I don't think there's anything you could do. I mean, I don't even know the reason I feel this way, so I can't take any action on it." He amended.

"Now was that so hard?" Lovino glowered, and Alfred broke into a broad grin because he knew everything would be okay.

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><p><strong>Shameless feelsy shmoop but at least Alfred now knows they're not ditching him!<strong>

**Please tell me what you think of the chapter and what you'd like to see more of!**

**Until then, Excelsior!**

**8i8**

**~sparklybutterfly42**


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